Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun
by Sholay
Summary: Post Season 1 Kai Hiwatari has been missing for a year. Now a reunion in Russia will be the catalyst that sets off a chain of events unraveling the secrets of Kai's past…and Voltaire's ambition. Truth is a luxury Kai can only dream of in this web of lies.
1. Prologue: My Name

**Hello! I'm Sholay and this is my first Beyblade fic!**

So, before you start my fic there are some important things to note:

· This story is mostly written in 1st person point of view. Changes in view point will be clearly denoted and will generally change to 3rd person unless stated otherwise (don't worry, it will be obvious).

· Finally this story takes place after the FIRST SEASON. In other words, no Daichi, no Zeo and no Hilary… unless I decide to include them…

· The story is rated PG-13 for violence, some mature subject matter (though in no major detail) and some bad words courtesy of incorrigible hotheads (looks pointedly at Johnny)

Everything else should be clear, so go ahead and start reading!

**Disclaimer:** No, Beyblade and all related characters do NOT belong to me… Nor do any songs you might read within this text. Beyblade is copyright Takao Aoki. The story plot and all bunnies involved DO belong to me so feel free to feed them but please do not touch! Also please note that this is the work of fiction; political stands, culture, law, and other ideologies do NOT necessarily reflect the world of today. These points are purely my creation and although I do some research while creating this story (such as looking up Russian cuisine), I don't delve too far into politics or belief systems, therefore I create my own.

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

_After the world championships in Russia, Kai just wanted to vanish. Then one day, inevitably, Kai is drawn back and ensnared in an intricate web of magic and legends; wrought by forsaken history and controlled by none other than Voltaire. _

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"_I never expect a soldier to think."_

—George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950)

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**Prologue: ****_My Name_**

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'**;**.**;**' _December 20, 1997_

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For as long as I can remember I have never had a name. When I was younger I was either 'runt' or 'boy'. Then, as I grew older I graduated from 'runt' to 'pipsqueak'.

When I was 6, I was taken to a place called 'The Abbey'. I stayed there for 3 years and as time progressed I was given many statuses, not names. I was called things that ranged from the lowly 'Subject 743649-57', which was one of the numbers given to those not worthy of titles, to the highly respected 'Tovarisch' or 'Hoodojneek', which were Russian for 'comrade' and 'artist' respectively.

I always envied those who were allowed to keep their names at the abbey. Those who were stronger, older and showed promise; people like 'Tala, Bryan or Spencer' were allowed to keep their names. I showed these qualities as well, even more so since I already had my own bitbeast upon arriving. However, I never had a name to call my own and once I had been marked with the 'Blue-Fourth' I would never have been able to keep my name even if I had wanted to. After all, at the Abbey one was merely a tool, only useful when needed and discarded when broken; and tools don't need names, do they?

When I was 9, I left the Abbey, forgoing my past and my memories in the process. I awoke in a new country with a new language that I could not speak and could not begin to understand; the writing was not only foreign but completely alien to me: nothing more then obscure sounds and meaningless lines scratched on a piece of paper. I didn't know who I was or where I came from. All I had was the worthless ability to speak Russian and strange blue markings on my face that refused to come off despite my best efforts.

None the less I managed. I even found people who were willing to help me. However, even then was I at a loss: the first thing anyone would ask me was my name. I could never recall one, nor could I recall my nationality or place of birth. For all I knew I could have sprung out of the gutter one day, and, I think, that's precisely what they thought of me. In effect, I was never claimed by a family, not even those who wished to adopt children.

When I was 10, things began to change: a man who claimed to be my 'grandfather' took me to his home. He wasted no time before barking out his rules. First and foremost, I was never to address him as Grandfather. To me, he was 'Sir' or 'Master Hiwatari'. Of course, in public it was an entirely different matter. Image was everything to the man and he expected me to act accordingly: to call him 'Grandfather' lovingly and to act polite to all the dignitaries; a difficult feat for a 10 year old kid who couldn't remember how to use a fork and knife.

We became acquainted with each other. It wasn't long before he told me I would carry his last name, 'Hiwatari'. I could not understand why I should have that name since I could not even recall being related to the man. From the name 'Voltaire' it was obvious he was French, and his last name sounded distinctly Japanese. But I was from Russia, so how could we be connected?

In spite of my curiosity, I never questioned Hiwatari's motives. Comments or questions that were irrelevant or even minutely disconcerting to the eccentric man were punishable by a lot worse than a slap and a sharp reprimand, to say nothing of the words he deemed as outright insolent. For the time being, I accepted the name 'Hiwatari'.

Along with my new last name, I also acquired a first name. I was called 'Kai', which —in some of the languages Grandfather made me learn— has a large variety of meanings; some of which include: 'fire', 'strength', 'ash', 'demon', 'destruction', 'domination' and—strangely enough—'sea'. Coupled with the completely unassuming last name 'Hiwatari', which means 'to walk over fire or hot coals', I was altogether perfectly appropriated to play the role of puppet.

Of course, the name was a mere accessory to mask the tool. After all, without a name I could not legally participate in any of the tournaments Voltaire so desperately wanted me to conquer. No tournaments meant no wins, and no wins meant an extremely large failure on my part. Personally, I really did not want to anticipate the punishment for a failure that large.

I entered many tournaments: fighting, fencing, kendo, taekwondo, karate, archery, swimming… the list went on.

And I won them all.

I'm not sure exactly _how_ I won. It might have been luck, or it might have been the fear of my grandfather's wrath that drove me. But I couldn't deny though that I knew what I was doing;

_exactly_ _what I was doing._

Sure, I learned physical education with my private tutors at Voltaire's house. Sure, I excelled at it, but PE was mostly gymnastics. I had never learned specific forms of fighting, or how to string a bow, or even how to swing a sword.

All these qualities came intrinsically, almost as though I had learned them long ago; before I came to Japan.

I chose not to dwell on these things too long. Instead I savored my victories. Surely grandfather would be proud of me now. He would be happy, and we could finally be a real family.

Unsurprisingly, I could not have been more wrong. Voltaire, spurred on by what I had done, didn't even acknowledge that I had achieved something. No sooner had I come home with my trophy was it snatched out of my hands and thrown to the side. I was then unceremoniously dumped on the streets.

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'**;**.**;**' _April 16, 1998_

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By the time four years had passed at my Grandfather's house, I had become the best streetblader in Japan. I had established myself among other Beybladers by creating a gang of tough, gutter rats. At the time I found the irony quite satirical. It hadn't been that long ago that I had been scorned for the very thing I was now revered for.

We stole blades, destroyed them, then did it all over again. Of course, unbeknownst to my teammates, all of this was done under the strict supervision of my grandfather. I despised what I was doing, who I had become, but by that time I had learned how to block out every emotion, even self-loathing.

It wasn't long before Voltaire forced me into another tournament, this time a regional beyblading tournament. I won with ease, the competition… laughable. What intrigued me was the vast multitude of names I encountered, each one individualizing a specific person; each one painstakingly chosen after hours of consideration by loving people.

I wanted a name like that, not one pieced together by an old man's selfishness; nor one that set an inexplicably high bar that I had to hold up a incessant, lifelong struggle to reach.

When I was 14, I returned to the tournament, expecting to gain the championship as easily as I did the year before. What I did not expect was to hear that the top four bladers would move on, forming the team that would represent Japan in a world tour, eventually leading up to the world championships.

I tried to leave the tournament, my grandfather's depraved intentions clear in my mind for the first time. I knew he wanted the power of the world's strongest blades, the _bitbeasts_. Using this power he could, quite literally, control the world.

I imagined the world under Voltaire's foot. I could not allow him to get his Mephistophelean hands on such power. I _would_ not allow it.

And so I ran. I admit, even I was surprised at how far I got before I was caught. I reached the neighboring city, and was almost at the train that would take me to the other side of the island, when I was spotted.

I gave them a good fight—it must have taken at least fifteen of them to bring me down—but they caught me none the less.

When I was brought back to Voltaire I remained defiant. I refused to be his myrmidon, his _servant_. After a few of my wonderful, loving grandfather's 'lessons' however, I soon changed my mind.

At the tournament, I once again encountered a curiosity. The three top bladers, aside from myself, were holders of sacred bitbeasts, just as I was. They were fair bladers, not much experience, but an acknowledgeable amount of potential.

I also noticed their names, each one describing their respective blader perfectly: first there was Max, a slightly annoying, overactive, hyper kid who smiled much too often. His bitbeast was a strong, defensive, water-wielding turtle called Draciel, whose name gave the impression of a silent unrelenting strength.

Next there was Rei: a quiet, reserved youth; who, when given the chance could be quite caustic and sometimes even whimsical. Even so, he still retained a quiet patience for onerous situations… an example of these would be Tyson's eating habits. Rei's bitbeast was Driger, a surreptitious earth-based white tiger specializing in blitzkrieg—rapid, lightning fast attacks.

Finally there was Tyson, an obnoxious, dogmatic, egotistical, impulsive, self-absorbed, gluttonous boy if there ever was one. Tyson's bitbeast was a huge dragon that could manipulate the winds. It had a semblance to a serpent and was named… imaginatively enough, Dragoon—a very candid name for a very candid behemoth.

Indeed. Now, I would present my own bitbeast. Her name is Dranzer. She is a radiant phoenix with glorious scarlet and golden plumage and a shimmering red tail that whispers in the wind as she soars through the air. I named her the day I met her. I no longer remember how we met, since the memory was long since torn from me, but I still believe the name suits her. It brings the impression of fire, strength and courage, qualities she loves to show generously.

… Qualities I seem to be lacking as of late.

Perhaps it is a futile struggle of mine. It is possible that I was never meant to have a name. A name has to be given by someone who cares for you when you are very young. God knows I've never had any of this type of people.

When you grow older, a name is what separates you from everyone else. It gives you individuality and it allows another a closer look at your very soul. Of course, for as long as I can remember, I was taught not to show emotion. Along with emotion, reactions and individuality were weaknesses that would be exploited. Every time these weaknesses showed, punishments were dealt.

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'**;**.**;**' _November 30, 1998_

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Being 'the best', having 'the most power', that was all that mattered. Of course, logically, both these things are merely comparisons to other people. How one ranks oneself, on a global scale, is entirely dependent on everyone else. Ironically enough, dependence is the one thing my Grandfather always despised.

It is at this point in my life, one year after the fateful events of the Russian Championships, that I have reached an _impasse_. _Sans _family, _sans _friends, _sans_ purpose or life-I remain here… I remain… nameless.

— _(Excerpts from the journal of internationally renowned prodigal beyblader: Kai Hiwatari, former Captain of the Bladebreakers) _

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**_End Prologue_…**

**… _To Be Continued_**

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**AN: **

So, did you like it? Remember that this is only the prologue, which sets the stage. The rest of the story will be much different. Anyway, constructive criticism is welcomed and encouraged. You can even tell me if I used a word wrong…

Ah yes, and the word Sooryavansham actually DOES mean 'Dynasty of the Sun' in… well, I'll let you guys guess which language I'm talking about. I'll give you a hint: it is NOT Japanese. Heh, maybe I'll be able to incite some reviews…

That's all for now folks and I'll see you in chapter one!

**Adio!**

**Sholay**


	2. The Invitation

**Chapter 1!**

And it's a long one! Get your popcorn and coke ready! Reviewer notes are at the end!

**Disclaimer:** No. Just no.

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

_After the world championships in Russia, Kai just wanted to vanish. Then one day, inevitably, Kai is drawn back and ensnared in an intricate web of magic and legends; wrought by forsaken history and controlled by none other than Voltaire. _

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"_Be sure you put your feet in the right place, then stand firm."_

-Abraham Lincoln (1809-1865)

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**Chapter 1: _The Invitation_**

"Max!"

"Maaaaax!"

"Huh? Whaazaa?" The tired boy reached up and attempted to rub the sleep out of his eyes. When he failed to do this, he decided to go back to sleep instead.

"MAX!"

Uh, there was that annoying voice again; couldn't it just go AWAY for a few hours? He just got home from visiting his Mom for a week. It took more then half a day to fly back and he hadn't gotten any sleep on the plane. So, Max was making another attempt to catch up. Unfortunately, he was being interrupted from his beauty rest by that annoying voice. Who WAS it anyway? It sounded vaguely familiar...

"Aww, c'mon Maxie! I know you just got back an' everythin' but you gotta see this! You've got mail from the BBA!"

"Whoa!" Max cried out and sat up abruptly, suddenly wide awake and excited. "Really!?"

"Yeah! Like I said: you gotta see this! Oh, and hurry up n' come down, or I'm gonna eat all the pancakes!"

Max laughed with good-humor, now having a pretty good idea who the guy yelling from the bottom of the stairs was. "Alright, ALRighht! I'm coming! Just gimme a sec to change!"

Max quickly yanked off the nightclothes he had put on just half an hour earlier. Then he pulled on a pair of loose beige shorts with pockets on the sides and a crude rope that acted as a belt and held them up. Tying the rope hurriedly, he tugged on a lime green sleeveless shirt at the same time. Over that he put on a loose blue t-shirt that had "I LOVE BLADIN' " written on it in bright sunny yellow letters. Checking himself in the mirror he quickly swept both hands haphazardly through his long honey blond hair, attempting to smooth them. Two seconds later they sprung back into their original spikes.

Disregarding his hair, Max quickly bent and hurriedly threw on some white socks that had previously been lying on the ground. He swept through his room and rushed out the door. Almost immediately, though, his hand reappeared and whipped around the door frame to grab a pair of crimson colored, fingerless gloves from his desktop.

Max barreled down the stairs stuffing on his gloves as he went. Jumping the last couple of stairs he landed with a muffled thump on the carpeted ground. He walked through a door on his right and was immediately enveloped in a friendly embrace.

"Maxie! It's great to see you again! Man, I haven't seen you for, like, a year!"

Max laughed and pulled away from his friend.

"Aww, c'mon Tyson," he replied, smiling widely all the while. "I live practically next door! And it's only been one week in America. It's Rei and the others that we haven't seen in a year."

As Max pulled back from his best friend, he finally had a chance to look at him. It was obvious that Tyson hadn't changed a bit over the past year. He was still impulsive, over-bearing and rash. He was also the best guy Max could ever want as a best friend: he stood by you no matter what.

His clothes hadn't changed either: with the navy shorts, neon yellow t-shirt and bright cherry red jacket, sleeves rolled up and all, no one would have guessed that it was December; but the weather had been unnaturally warm this year and Max couldn't even feel the cold.

On top of Tyson's head, the red baseball cap was still ever present, facing backwards as always. In fact, the only visible difference about him was that the long blue-black hair which was once pulled back into a loose ponytail that fell down past his shoulders was no longer present. Instead, Tyson's hair was now cropped short and fell messily at the nape of his neck. His large bangs hadn't changed though and still hung low enough to obscure his eyes.

A few weeks ago, Tyson had annoyed one of the girls in his class; something about calling her fat after she had snatched the last cupcake (which he had had his eyes on) at lunch. The girl, who's name was Hilary, had eagerly returned the favor by sticking a huge wad of gum in his hair with gusto.

In the end, the only way to get rid of the gum was to chop off the entire ponytail. Tyson, of course, threw a fit and fumed for days after the deed was done. Eventually, he did calm down, but all chances of civilized interaction between the two teens were out the window. Tyson and Hilary now refused to speak to one another voluntarily, but even Tyson had to admit that the hair would grow back eventually. Besides, he still had his bangs. Max had to give Hilary credit though, she was good when she wanted to be.

"Max, it's a good thing you came! I don't think I could've held your friend back from my pancakes much longer!" Came an older voice from the kitchen door to Max's left, ending his train of thought.

"Aww, c'mon Dad, I'm sure he's not THAT bad."

Not three minutes later Max ate his words—actually, technically it was probably Tyson who ate them—as he stared at his best friend who was literally inhaling his fifth pancake, still with no signs of slowing.

"Whoa," He said, blinking a few times. "You really weren't kidding..." Max himself was on his second pancake.

"It's a good thing you don't bring Tyson over every day, Max, he'd eat us out of house and home!" Max's father joked; snatching away the maple syrup before the dark haired boy could empty it, the latter faltered only briefly before grabbing the icing sugar instead, much to Mr. Tate's chagrin.

When Tyson heard this, and registered it a few moments later, he paused around his bites:

"HEY! I O_pp_-JECT_hh_ T_h_O' _d_AT!"

Max grinned. "You would, but you have to admit it's true."

"Gim_mmuh_ a b_h_-reak_h_, 'm _uh_ gro_h_wn' b_h_-oy!" Tyson spluttered, causing a few crumbs to spray from his mouth onto the table.

Max and his father wisely decided to stay quiet after this; not wanting to risk being the next target for Tyson's crumbs. It was in this manner that half an hour passed comfortably, while Max and his father ate and chatted, while Tyson simply ate.

Eventually, all three of them were sitting comfortably on the couches spread out through Mr. Tate's family room. Max and his father were engaged in a light conversation.

"Hey, Dad, look! Tyson's finished eating!"

"I don't think it was a choice of _finishing_ eating, as much as it was a _forced_ decision, due to the shortage of pancakes. That… and the sausages are still frozen."

They both laughed while Tyson fumed and did his best to shoot both of them death glares. Max noticed, but instead of getting intimidated by this, he only laughed harder.

"Watcha' tryin' to do Ty? Tryin' to act the Kai or some'm'? Sorry dude, but you're _real-ly _not that effective."

Tyson blinked when Max said this, then his face lit up so brightly it was as though a light bulb went off above his head.

"Oh! That reminds me, you've got mail!" Tyson groped around inside his pocket until he seemed to find something. Eyes lighting up, he withdrew his hand; clutched between his fingers was a folded letter, slightly worse for wear after doing hard time at the bottom of his pocket with the lint and old gum wrappers.

"This came in the mail for you yesterday!" He held out the letter, grinning.

Max took the envelope with a raised eyebrow. "Tyson?" He questioned. "Exactly _what _were you doing poking around my mail?"

The boy in question shrugged sheepishly, "well, you were gone away, so I had to… y'know… keep it safe… Technically, I saved it from getting bored in the mailbox!" Max's eyebrow remained raised.

"Right, and you didn't 'rescue' the rest of the mail?"

Tyson puffed out his cheeks with indignation. "Look, Maxie-e, just open it already!"

Max fingered the envelope and smoothed it out on the edge of the wooden table in front of him. After he had the paper straight enough to read, he pulled it back towards himself. He read the front of the envelope out loud:

"To the Bladebreakers," he said slowly. "Wow, it's been a long time since I've read that. Ty, did you get one of these?"

"Yup! Now hurry up and open it!" Tyson exclaimed impatiently, practically bouncing up and down on his seat opposite Max in his excitement. Max shook his head in amusement, while his father finished cleaning up the last of the breakfast and joined the two on the sofas.

"Ty, you already know what's in this, so why are you getting so excited?" Max wanted to know.

"I think he just wants to see your reaction. I admit; I'm curious too. It's from the Bey Blading Association isn't it? They haven't sent you a letter for a year at least." Max's father said softly, leaning to the side of his armchair, so that he could glance slightly over his son's shoulder. Not being able to make out any words, he shifted back. "What does it say?"

Max glanced at his father for a second. He had noticed that his dad was being a lot quieter recently; he almost seemed distracted, or thoughtful about something. However, Max didn't want to get into an argument over any issues his dad was having; he also didn't want to ruin the mood while Tyson was still there. Instead Max turned back to his half opened letter and shredded the remaining half of the seal, as it refused to open neatly; reaching inside, he slide out a neat thrice-folded letter. Reading it, his eyes widened considerably.

"Oh…Wow!"

"What does it say, Max?" Mr. Tate repeated; his full attention on Max now.

"It's-" Max started, but was immediately cut off by Tyson:

"-An invitation to a reunion! YES!" Tyson cried out, jumping out of his seat, pumping an arm in the air. "We're going to Russia!"

"Hey, whoa, wait a second there." Mr. Tate interjected seriously raising a hand in objection. "What do you mean Russia? Who's authorizing this? Are there going to be adults looking after you while you're going?" Mr. Tate had been reluctant in allowing Max to on his Beyblading tour around Europe and America, especially with only Mr. Dickenson in charge. He had been extremely disappointed and worried when he found out the man was only a part-time guardian and in his place stood a fourteen year old _street thug_ of all people! Max insisted that Kai was well-meaning and responsible, but Mr. Tate couldn't forget his son's was a rather biased opinion. Max was too trusting for his own good. Mr. Tate had since sworn he'd be damned before letting his son go off gallivanting across the world again without proper accompaniment; _especially _in a place as volatile as Russia. Max was only _thirteen_! Barely old enough to be traveling on his own! Tyson couldn't even be counted because he was the same age!

"Aw, c'mon Dad, relax," Max said while smiling reassuringly, although not succeeding much in alleviating his father's fears. He handed his father the letter, "Here, look: There's going to be a one year reunion for the top 5 teams from last year's tournament. It's taking place in a few days and it's gonna to last the entire Christmas. I suppose Mr. D had something to do with the organization of it all, since he knows how well we all got along. Every team's manager will be going with their own team… so I'm guessing they're gonna use this chance to talk about what happened…um… last year?" Max phrased the last part like a question, looking at Tyson like he had the answers, earning only an idle shrug in return as said boy fiddled distractedly with a nearby pad of paper, tearing off one of the sheets.

"You mean like all the dangerous things that happened and how that boy—Kai—betrayed you." Mr. Tate stated bluntly, looking from the letter to his son, who was standing next to the arm of his chair.

"Uhhh… weh-… no bu-… " Max stuttered on various unfinished words before finally falling silent a slight frown of disagreement on his face.

"It's possible," shrugged Tyson dispassionately, while carefully shredding the paper in his hands into a spiral. He didn't bother to look up. "Maybe they want to, like, ban Tala and his team or something; Kai, too." He finished the spiral and quickly tiring of it, tossed the worthless piece of paper into the trash can next to him. He then leaned back on the semi-hard sofa-bed, his arms cushioning his head. "It's not like he ever did anything 'cept lean on walls, scowl, be mean and steal bitbeasts last year anyways."

"Tyson!" Max was shocked, "How can you say that?" He cried, half angry, half shocked. "Kai is our capt-"

"Was." Tyson corrected, tilting his head to the side and looking at Max pointedly.

"Fine." Max amended, uncharacteristically snappish. "He WAS our captain. But you know that he mighta been a little cold sometimes-"

"Sometimes?" Snorted Tyson, Max ignored him.

"But he STILL trained us," the blond boy persisted. "He pushed us harder than we thought we could go. He helped us when we didn't know what to do AND he was _always_ there for us." Tyson snorted again but Max was undeterred, he readily launched himself into an impassioned speech. "Without Kai we would have never gotten past the Asian tournament. And you know it! He was very smart and he was always calm, cool and collected, no matter what! We all looked up to him, he was our best blader."

Tyson's head shot up at the last part.

"WHAT!?" He practically shouted. "_I _was our best! Me and Dragoon, not him and his over-cooked turkey, or are _you _forgetting who became WORLD CHAMPION?! Well, let me _remind _you. It was ME! Me, not HIM! He LOST his match against Spencer! And also, I WON the match again him in the regionals!"

"Oh, get _over_ it already, Tyson," sighed Max, frustrated. "You of all people should know you won by luck alone. Plus we've all gotten a lot better since then."

"I still won!" Tyson persisted childishly.

"Yeah? Well, one match doesn't mean anything!" Max threw back, but regretted the words almost immediately. It was too late though, both boys were shouting by now.

Tyson's eyes widened, he had long since abandoned his comfortable position on the couch and now jumped to his feet. He stared down at his friend with a mixture of hurt and disbelief.

"Are you saying my match against Tala meant nothing?"

"Well… no, but I-"

"BOYS!" Mr. Tate had had enough. A single shout and lowered eyebrows was enough to get both teens quiet and back in their appropriate seats. The older man now knew that the subject of Kai was obviously a touchy one.

"Stop this at once! You should not argue and just say whatever you want without meaning it. Honestly, you two should know better than that." His tone faded from angry to exasperated when he realized that the boys, both looking appropriately abashed now, were just having a childish squabble, nothing more. True enough, it wasn't long before Max apologized, Tyson following almost simultaneously. Soon enough the boys were all smiles again, both simply lacking the censure to stay angry with one another.

Max's father was silent throughout this exchange. He didn't want to take a side since he himself barely knew Kai. At the very most his image of the teen was limited to a nasty, harsh antisocial character with no sense of honor. One who only just happened to get lucky and become a part of his son's team-of course, only to turn traitor, betray the team… and come crawling back later when the tides changed; it really should not have been such a surprise to find out that the boy was indeed Russian.

The older man sighed tiredly and sat back in his chair. He wasn't about to try and understand what these boys where thinking: why his son so strongly stood up for this amoral boy; why Kai was even ever on the team; what exactly the boys were _thinking_ running about on the streets of foreign countries… No, there really was no point in trying to understand some things… He just had to make sure his son was never inn such a situation again. They were simply too young and too immature.

"Max, are you going to tell me more about this trip you're planning to take?"

Max turned to look at his father, one eyebrow raised in question. He had been engrossed in a conversation on new beyparts Kenny was supposed to be building and had completely forgotten what they had been talking about.

"Huh?" Was the resulting reply and his father resisted the urge to roll his eyes. '_My point exactly.'_

"What? ...Oh!" The boy cried out with sudden inspiration, "of course! THAT trip…" Max paused and scrunched his nose in confusion. "What do you want to know?"

"Well, how are you getting there, for one. I also want to know when the trip is, how long it is; the living arrangements and who's going to be looking after you." His father listed these off rapidly in a typical fatherly matter that had Max wondering briefly whether or not his father had planned these questions beforehand for this exact moment.

"Oh! Right," Max smacked his forehead. "I should have guessed."

"I think we're going there by plane, the day after tomorrow…" Tyson interjected quickly, bored of being left out for so long. Mr. Tate's eyes widened considerably.

"So soon?" He questioned, shocked. Tyson nodded.

"Yeah, the letter came sooner, but… well… you were away…" He shrugged it off and looked at Max who nodded, agreeing that it was no big deal. Mr. Tate shook his head, constantly amazed at teenagers' carefree natures and ability to conform to almost anything. He sighed and told Tyson to continue.

Tyson took a breath, "a-and… lessee… Mr. D's gonna be looking after us… so you don't hafta worry about poor wikle Maxie getting his proper nutrish-ments."

Max mock glared at Tyson, while his father chuckled something in the background that sounded suspiciously like '_nourishments'_. Then Max's mouth twitched and looked between his father and Tyson slyly. "You're right Tyson," he said slowly. "With you there, we'll need the extra help to hold you off the food so the rest of us don't starve. Eh, Dad?"

Max and his Dad shared a moment of laughter while Tyson attempted to salvage his reputation with his 'I'm a growing boy!' argument.

"But I am." he grumbled surly as Max and his father fought to stifle their laughter, the situation made all the more funny by Tyson's complaints.

"Anyway, smarty-pants," Mr. Tate said, being the first to sober. "I'll sign this permission slip of yours. You go and enjoy yourself, Max."

Max literally beamed. "Yay! Thanks Dad, you're the best!" Silently he cheered that his Dad gave in so easily. It'd looked like he'd have a hard time of it in the beginning.

"Cool" Exclaimed Tyson happily, already having gotten over his previous bad humor, "I knew you'd do it Mr. T! After all, my crazy, fruit-loopy grandpa signed it." As he said this, Tyson turned and looked over his shoulder as though expecting his grandfather to pop out from behind the couch and whack him over the head. When no one appeared, he leaned in toward Max and his father and whispered conspiratorially: "Though I kinda expect him to spontaneously appear in Russia with that shirt of his, just to hit me with his kendo stick…"

Max look sideways at Tyson. "Why DOES he hit you with that thing anyway?"

Tyson sniffed with an air of righteousness. "Well _I'VE_ never done anything wrong; he just comes out of thin air...no warning at all...and… WACK!" Tyson made a swiping gesture, nearly causing the vase near the couch an untimely death. Max rolled his eyes, wondering about the way the world looked from his friends eyes. Tyson then turned back to Max and his father, a suspicious grin adorning his features, and his voice turned devious. "I was _thinking,_" he continued, "about locking him in his room before I leave. Waddaya think?"

Max laughed lightly and smiled. "I don't think that's a very good idea, Tyson. You know how resourceful your Grandfather is. He'd probably get out another way. Then, when he DOES arrive in Russia, he'll probably be twice as bad."

Tyson pulled a face, "I guess..."

Mr. Tate relaxed back in his chair and gave a soft smile. "You really shouldn't be so hard on him Tyson, he only wishes to look out for you." Even with that one short sentence he seemed to scold Tyson with a short lecture.

"Bleh," answered said boy, at a loss for words he merely worried lightly at the tip of his tongue with his teeth and then turned away. "You two are a buncha spoilsports. C'mon Maxie, let's go see what the Chief's doin'. Your father is a bad influence on ya'." Max started to follow Tyson, still grinning, until he was stopped by his father's voice.

"Max, just wait a minute. I need to talk with you about something for a second."

Max subdued immediately at his father's serious tone and quickly sent a meaningful glance at Tyson. Unfortunately the dark-haired boy continued to look back at them in confusion. Max turned back to his father.

"Um, okay Dad." He said slowly.

"Is everything OK Mr. T?" Asked Tyson, concerned.

The man nodded, "everything is fine Tyson." Before he could politely request the boy leave however, Max surprisingly jumped in and did it for him.

"Ty, you go ahead, I'll catch up in a few, 'kay?" In answer, Tyson finally understood and nodded, heading to the door. Right before leaving Tyson turned and seemed to give Max a 'you-better-tell-me-what-this-is-about-later' look. Max just rolled his eyes and closed the front door.

Tyson only managed to get out a "I'll see you at Kenny's!" before his full view was of the door in his face.

"Right," Max mumbled distractedly to his friend, his full attention on his father.

"Max, there's something I've been meaning to tell you." Mr. Tate said as he stood and approached his son. Max looked up at his father with equally serious eyes. Despite popular belief, he could actually act grown up and responsible at times. He had to, since his mother was never there for him and his father was always working.

"Does this have anything to do with what has been on your mind since we left Mom's place?"

Mr. Tate's surprise was obvious. His son was very perceptive! _Of course_ he realized. Max had always been sensitive to people's emotions.

"Actually, yes" He started deliberately, wondering how to phrase what he wanted to say. He gazed down at his son—not that far down actually, Max had grown a lot over the past two years and was now only a little more than a head shorter than his father—and felt a small rush of pride. Over the past two years Max had not only grown in body, but in mind and spirit as well.

Not too many years ago, Max had been a very troubled child. With no friends, no mother and only a part-time father; the boy had slowly grown more and more withdrawn. Max though, being a naturally happy boy, tended to repress everything; his father remembered sadly. Then, two years ago, a miracle had happened. They had moved to Japan and Max made his first real friends in years. Max's life changed dramatically as he discovered his talent for Beyblading, started competing and went on that crazy one-year trip.

Out of all these events the end result stood before the proud father: smiles no longer forced and an underlying strength of steel in his son. Yet Mr. Tate knew there was only one thing that could make Max truly happy: a complete family; and that was what he wanted to offer his boy.

"Max, before we left New York, your Mother and I… talked about a few things."

"You didn't argue again, did you?" Max asked anxiously.

"No, no, of course not" Mr. Tate paused for a second. "Max, listen, what would you think about living in New York… permanently?"

Max choked, swallowed and blinked a few times. "Wh-what?" He stuttered, not thinking he heard right.

"It's like I said: your mother and I were talking. We believe that the situation between us has changed a little, and we considered the possibility of living in the same area. My job is versatile in the way that, as a chef and part-time writer, I can live almost anywhere and not be constrained in any way. It was your mother's job that limited her to the US. We came to Japan because it was my homeland, and your mother and I-… Well, things have changed now, so … well…" Mr. Tate sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He was not good at these things. "Look Max, ultimately it comes down to what you want. If you really don't want to move then we won't. But… otherwise… we will be moving as soon as this summer. We'll live with your mother."

"Ah-ah-I… I need to think… think about this." Max blundered through his words, his mind drawing blank. "I mean… I-I've always…_wanted_ us to live together… but-"

"I understand, and you can have plenty of time to think about it. You're old enough now, and I trust what you say, but you have to decide soon. It's a huge decision to make and I need to prepare things, including what high school I am going to enroll you into, you'll be going to grade 9 soon and the school you graduate from can make a very big impact on your later studies. " Mr. Tate said firmly.

Max nodded mutely and turned away. He walked a few paces and then abruptly stated that he was going to go catch up with Tyson. After getting permission from his father he practically fled the house. As he ran down the road towards Kenny's house he decided that he had plenty of time to think about his father's offer. Right now, all he wanted to do was push everything to the back of his mind and enjoy the day with his friends. When he got to Kenny's house that was exactly what he did, the whole incident seeming surreal. Max couldn't even bring himself to ask his friends' opinions.

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**_End Chapter One_…**

**… _To Be Continued_**

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And that is ALL for now! So, now for the reviewer notes; first of all thank you everyone for reading this and I hope I continue to meet your expectations. Make no mistake though, this story will be _LONG_ and perhaps not particularly fast paced, but that goes for all epics, doesn't it?

**Kavbj:** Thanks for reviewing! I'm actually 17 years old and I'm flattered you think I write like a pro! I'm sorry to say that this is currently the only idea I have for beyblade. However, I promise you that the story will be long and will contain many exciting twists! And hey, I'm open to any story suggestions you may have!

**Miako6: **Hiya, thanks for reviewing! I am happy to say that this fic will NOT BE KAIOC! I am not a fan of any form of Mary Sue/Gary Stu and I can guarantee that all Original Characters will be kept down to earth and away from any romantic relationships with Kai. I can also say for sure that romance will not take a central role in this story, so you don't have to worry. Oh, and I'm a fan of torturing my fav character too, which would explain why I keep getting all these glares from Kai as I write this story…ah, (throws up hands) the trials of an amateur fanfic author!

**LadyAmazon14:** Yay! My first review on Mediaminer! So, as I can completely relate to you as a part of the Kai female fan base (YAY! He's just so huggable! _;glomps_ _Kai_; _;Kai shoves me off; _Hey! (brushes off shirt) oh well, I still love you, _;Kai walk out of the room;_ I think he's just sore, cause he read the story plot yesterday… Anyway, as for romance… well you'll just have to wait and see won't you ;). But I'm pretty sure I won't make it a large part of the story, you may have to make do with cute moments and subtle hints… but hey! You never know!

**Linesy:** Hey, thanks for reviewing, I hope you keep reading my story! I was wondering, since you gave me an 8 on spelling and grammar (and originality, but I can understand that one), what you think I should improve on?

**Finally!** Time for the big **Question: What language is the title in?** Well, I can honestly say that it is** NOT Russian!** Ha! Now, what else could it be?

I'll leave you all to ponder this, keep guessing though! I'll take all the reviews where I can get 'em!

**Adio!**

**Sholay**


	3. Out of the Frying Pan

Hi, I'm back with **Chapter 2!**

Not much to say, only… Read and Enjoy! Reviewer notes are at the end!

**THERE WILL BE NO KAIOC IN THIS STORY.**

Oh yeah, for those of you who are wondering, here are the ages, from youngest to oldest:

**Kenny—12**

**Tyson—13**

**Max—13**

**Rei—14**

**Kai—15**

**Disclaimy:** Don't own it. All original characters are mine, please do not use them without my permission.

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

_After the world championships in Russia, Kai just wanted to vanish. Then one day, inevitably, Kai is drawn back and ensnared in an intricate web of magic and legends; wrought by forsaken history and controlled by none other than Voltaire._

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_"But screw your courage to the sticking place_

_And we'll not fail." _- Shakespeare, _Macbeth, I, vii._

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**Chapter 2:** **_Out of the Frying Pan_**

I hold the letter in my hand, staring at it in shock. How the thing managed to find me was a question worthy of asking; however, I have not yet grasped the reality of the contents of the letter, so the thought has not yet registered in my mind.

Having gone to retrieve the mail from the communal center, like every other day, the letter had caught my eye from within the pile and for a frozen moment I had stared at it with disconcerting disbelief. Doing the first thing that came to mind, I had stuffed it in my pocket—away from prying eyes—and had taken the first opportunity I could to dash up to my room and examine it.

And here I am now.

I reread the letter again slowly. It is addressed to the 'Bladebreakers'- a name I have not heard in a very long time.

The letter starts off with frivolous pleasantries such as greetings, well-wishes and concerns over how the last year has treated us… I had assumed that the aforementioned 'us' included Tyson, Max, Rei, perhaps even Kenny, and myself.

The second paragraph is what caught my eye.

An invitation to a reunion party in Russia, the top five teams of the World Championships are being invited. Mentally, I catalog the teams: the White Tigers and the All-Starz definitely, the Majestics, obviously the Bladebreakers and… the Demolition Boys?

I pause on that thought for a second. Having spent the majority of the last year working in Izhevsk, I have constantly been fairly close to Moskva. I could never work in Moskva itself because… well… the memories were just too much too soon to tolerate. At any rate, I was still near that place; but despite even this I had not seen, nor heard of, any of the Demolition Boys. I had spent many nights wondering if…

_No._ Sharply, I snap my head to the side, as though to dislodge the thought. With a small shove, I rise up from my dilapidated cot, ignoring its sigh of relief as my weight leaves its surface. I walk the two steps to the opposite end of my room, stepping lightly as the wooden floorboards creak dangerously beneath my feet and stop in front of a small hole cut in the stone wall, covered barely by a thin maroon cloth. This hole serves as my window. I brush the cloth to the side.

Placing both arms on the hard cold edge of the window, I lean forward into the chilly winter night. My gaze, as always, has an almost magnetic tendency towards the stars, and I let it rest there for a moment, wistfully, as though my goal rests within the stars, twinkling; unreachable.

The moment soon flees as my eyes fall to the horizon. I can practically see the sinister darkness exuding from that place a mere few hundred miles away.

The Abbey. Home of the blackest secrets hidden by mankind. It caused such painful memories for me. Such horrid things happened there that by the time I finally left the place my mind and life were reduced to the mangled mess that I am only now beginning to repair. For me, all that remains of that place is bad memories: visions that come to me in the darkest hours of the night; mere nightmares that plague my hours of sleep. There are some for whom these nightmares are reality.

I sigh and lean into the dirty windowsill, head bent. I had tried to avoid the truth; had tried to force myself to believe that they were nothing to me. I had almost succeeded as well. Somehow though, I never manage to turn myself completely cold against them. I proved it when I held back in that final match against Spencer, and I'm proving it now as I slump over the windowsill, head bowed in submission to my rising emotions.

Shameful, I think, cynicism causing the corners of my lips to pull upwards into a smirk. Imagine what Voltaire would say if he sees you like this. Imagine what he would DO.

Pushing away the disturbing thoughts, I lower my eyes to the paper once again. I knew—no, I know—the Demolition Boys extremely well. They are too stubborn to die, especially at the hands of a sociopathic megalomaniac like Boris. I would like to say that I know that they escaped the Abbey, but I am not that foolish. However—I frown slightly at the paper—I do know that if Tala, Bryan, Spencer and Ian do not make an appearance at this reunion then many eyebrows will raise and fingers will most likely point to Balkov Abbey, Boris himself and, inevitably, back to Voltaire. Boris has to force them to go, if only just to keep the Abbey in business. The boys would appear there, probably not in the best of conditions, but they would be alive, at the very least. Besides, it would be nice to see them again, that is, of course, assuming that I attend.

"Che." I let out a deep breath and turn away from the window. With a flick of my wrist the letter spins through the air and slides neatly onto the sole desk in the room. I then, for a lack of a chair in the room, collapse back onto the cot tiredly. After a few second of silence, I lean forward into a sitting position and rub my temples. A year ago I had tried to escape all of this, and now… it is all too soon. There are too many memories. The Abbey, Voltaire, The Demolition Boys, and the Bladebreakers, the first to show me friendship apart from Dranzer…

No, I must be mistaken; they would be the last ones to ever even consider being friends with me, of all people. After all, who would ever want to be friends with the emotionless, cold, arrogant, saucy, selfish, insolent, malevolent, icy 'sour puss' captain?

A warm feeling in my side pocket makes me look up. I gaze down the side of my pants, noticing the soft red glow emanating from it as I do. I reach in my pocket, already knowing what is going on, and slowly draw out a small circular disk.

"Hi, Dranzer," I speak softly to her.

Then, almost as though triggered by my voice, the light brightens and expands, enveloping the chip along with my hand and most of my arm. I can feel the chip getting hot, but I do not bother letting go. Fire soothes me, and nothing short of the most extreme heat can burn me.

As I watch the bit chip, it slowly gains in radiance until I am almost forced to look away. Then, she emerges from her bit with a melodious call that for one second, for one single second, fills me. And I am warm.

The light dies down and eventually disappears. My phoenix remains in her true form as a magnificent red and golden splashed, eagle-sized bird perched imperiously on my knee, all the while managing to eye me with concern without spoiling her countenance. I feel my lips loosen at the corners as I return my concerned friend's stare with a gentle look.

"There is nothing wrong," I stress quietly. "Don't _worry._"

Of course, not being one prone to listening, she merely seems to narrow her eyes at me. I exhale through my nose and look away.

"What? Would you patronize me now?"

She utters a sweet cooing sound and rubs her face against my cheek. Unable to stay petulant in face of such…_cuteness,_ I find myself stroking her feathers absently. Looking down at her, her eyes are saccharine sweet as she leans into my touch, knowing full I will concede to her unasked question.

I lean downwards towards her. "You" and I ruffle her feathers, enjoying her annoyed squawk, "and your mothering will be the end of me, you know that?" As though in agreement, she nods and makes a knowing sound.

"First though," and I look at her seriously. "I just want to make sure that you aren't still mad at me for making you pull back against Spencer. You understand now why I did it don't you?" I must have asked her half a dozen times, yet it seems as though I still need that reassurance, it is slightly pathetic, really.

Dranzer chirps at me in an understanding manner, and nips at my finger in an indignant way that seems to say: _"of course I understand! Who do you think I am?"_

My smile becomes almost tangible and I say simply that I am glad. "I don't know what I would do if you left me" I add truthfully. "You are my friend," _My only friend. _She coos again and I understand without needing to exchange words that she is saying that she would never leave. I appreciate the sentiment; I honestly do, but somehow—

I snap out of my thoughts and sober immediately when Dranzer hopes onto the table and picks at the letter with her beak. "That," I all but spit at the piece of paper, "is the coin that brought my house of cards crashing down." Contempt and self-reproach are heavy on my words and for a second I pause, half-expecting Dranzer to make another condescending sound. When nothing comes, I look down at her and she merely gazes back at me, completely compliant and accepting. I know that she is listening, she always does. For that, I am grateful. She has always been patient with me, even when I was taken with that obsession for her other half, Black Dranzer...

I feel a peck on my fingers and pull myself out of my reverie, sighing tiredly as I do so. I glance slightly at Dranzer in my peripheral vision—she is perched lightly next to me on my cot—before turning my attention back to the letter on the table. A stoic expression—more from enduring habit than anything else—rests on my face. After a moment's hesitation, I continue:

"This letter is an invitation to a reunion party in _Moskva_" _Moscow._ "I am not quite sure why I got one, I mean, who would want _me_, of all people, at a party? To be completely honest, I am as far as one can get from social and it is not as though I left anyone on good terms: I betrayed my team, stole their bitbeasts, betrayed my enemy, betrayed my family, almost betrayed my team again, lost my championship match and dropped off the face of the planet. Yea, I'm sure they're simply _dying_ to see me again..."

'..._It would simply be a shame if they all ended up in the hospital with PSTD when I don't show up…'_

Dranzer makes a small noise before falling silent once again.

"Yes," I say, knowing intuitively what she is implying. "I know that it was a lot more complex that that, but that is how they all saw it. To all of them, the Majestics, the All Stars, the White Tigers and especially the Bladebreakers; to all of them, I am a traitor. I think I may have actually betrayed every single person there at least once. The only people who know anything at all are the Demolition Boys and even they know _nothing._" I pause for a second and let the anger wash through me. With closed eyes I concentrate on my slightly erratic heartbeat, as I had learned to do years ago. A few seconds pass, my breathing regulates and I am stoic once more.

"Anyway," I say at length, opening expressionless eyes slowly. "That was why I was so... disconcerted earlier." I turn my gaze on Dranzer, almost challenging her to find fault in my show of emotion. She simply nods as though in complete and nonjudgmental understanding.

There is nothing more to say, so I reach over and lift the letter from my desk. I spend some time just staring at it then let out a low sound in pure frustration at the world and its vices. Letting the paper slide through my fingers, I fall back on my cot, narrowly missing striking my head on the wall.

I hold my hands over my head and stare at them. Dranzer sidles up next to me and settles down against my arm.

"I can't do it Dranzer." I say to my hands and clench them tightly and shiver. My voice is calm and steady in spite of my posture. The result of many years of training, I suppose.

I feel warmth coming from something near me and turn my head.

"Dranzer," my voice is a whisper.

My phoenix, in all her altruistic glory is sitting, eyes lidded, on my cot, radiating a pure warmth that seems to beat with my own heartbeat. For a moment, the world is at peace.

There is no heater in the room. Consequentially, heat is somewhat difficult to come by, especially in the middle of winter when my cot—naked, exempting the worn army blanket covering the emaciated mattress—and heaviest piece of clothing—an overlarge, unflattering black trench coat—fail to do their jobs adequately.

But right now I can't even feel the chill which has infested my body for so long. Muscles I am not even aware were aching are eased and I can feel myself relaxing; I imagine that, should I let myself go, I could fall asleep. That, of course would not be appropriate for the moment, so instead I rise up a bit, lying back on my elbows. As I watch Dranzer and the golden light she is emitting I wonder how she is able to do this. She has never done it before, that fact causes a twinge of suspicion to rise in me until it is washed away by her light. She isn't even in her battle form, creating a soul-fire like this must cost her immeasurable energy...

As though in response to my thoughts, I suddenly feel the warmth around me recede. I snap my head around and reach out just in time to catch the exhausted fire bird, adjusting my position on the bed accordingly, ignoring the near physical weight of my returning problems dropping like a curtain around my shoulders.

"Dranzer," I say softly. "For me?" I got a tired chirp in reply.

"Not worth it." I state bluntly and get a peck on the arm from Dranzer in response. "Never mind then," I say slowly, changing the topic, knowing I will not get anywhere on the other one. "But I guess...I guess then, you want to know why I am rather averse to this whole notion?" I do not need to look at her to know she is giving her accession. Instead I find myself staring pensively at a small spider picking its way up the wall opposite myself.

"The invitation is for the top five Beyblading teams, their managers and two adult accompaniments. Gran—Voltaire will be there." I say bluntly, not having the will to be ambiguous. Dranzer makes a disgusted sound near me. "Boris will be there too." Now I can practically feel her feathers bristle. I am not done yet though.

"There is another reason as well," I say as I stand, placing Dranzer on the cot as gently as I can. "When—_if_ I go there, then everyone will be expecting something I can no longer give them." I cross my arms and turn away from Dranzer. "Everyone will be expecting the cold image of their strong, confident, lofty _Captain_ of the _Bladebreakers_."

I turn and scowl. "No one will be expecting..." I grab at the pin attached to my shirt and yank it off violently. I hold the metal rectangle before my eyes and spit out the words written on it scornfully: "'Kolya Zarakovich Tretyakov', humble waiter and servant at Huo's Restaurant. Everyone will be expecting the conceited grandson of a billionaire. What will happen when they find out that I am _nothing_?" Dranzer gives a noise of protest, but I am too far gone to stop my rant.

"Well it's true isn't it?" I spin around to face her, my voice only slightly louder than norm. However, just this change: a slight raise in tone and words contracted with crude informality—it is enough to show how unsettled I am.

'_Yet another outburst of emotion for me; how pathetic.'_

I don't dwell on it much however, as the adrenaline is still running in my blood and I feel a much needed relief from the pressure on my chest at finally being able to speak my mind.

"I mean, I've completely failed at everything I've ever valued. I'm no longer of any importance to anyone, not even Boris. All I have left are these." I brush a hand against my blue-stained cheeks. Outwardly I show nothing, though I feel strangely as if I have fallen into a deep void, inky darkness choking me. "Even these are meaningless tattoos on my face. If anything they have become a symbol of weakness, not strength.

What would the world say now, eh Dranzer? What would the world say now if they saw their mighty _Blue Fourth_?" I ask, not any louder than a normal speaking voice and my face still holding that carefully expressionless look.

"What would they, all of them, say if they saw me, _me,_ the one they dubbed _indomitable,_ living like a dog in an alley?" I gesture at my small, closet-like room which consists of only the table and army bed. There is not even a small light or candle in the room; the only source of light coming from a small square shaped hole in the thick cement wall. It serves as both a window and an air vent in the room: circulating air in the summer and effectively freezing it in the winter. On a corner of the bed, in a small, neat pile are all my clothes, consisting of a pair of threadbare sweatpants and sweater—my sleeping clothes. Beside them lays one lone pair of baggy black cargo jeans—so worn they are grey in areas—and one very old sleeveless black shirt. A white scarf—which has been in my possession for many years now—is carefully folded and tucked safely near the wall. A black trench coat lies sprawled across the cot acting as a source of extra warmth when the stiff army blanket fails to be adequate. Finally, a beaten duffel bag, one that has seen more than its fair share of dirty puddles, lays crumpled next to the bed, empty.

These are my only material possessions, everything else was destroyed—I was lucky that I had managed to salvage the duffel. To add to them were the clothes on my back—a navy blue shirt, crisp black pants with black socks and shiny black shoes to match: my uniform for work—the pin in my hand and, of course, Dranzer. The phoenix, though, is not to be considered a possession of mine. She is more analogous to a partner, or my 'best friend'; if the point is more easily understood by phrasing it that manner.

All in all, I do not own very much. The year has been... hard; and finding work even harder. It did not help that I refused to accept any financial aid of any sort. But nothing would have been possible without Dranzer.

The anger leaves me as I gaze back at my phoenix lying quietly on the bed against the pillow resting on the wall, just as I left her. She stares at me with allusive amber and golden flecked eyes: A silent strength.

I huff a little. "I am not afraid."

She just keeps looking and I turn away.

"Alright, Dranzer." I agree finally. "I will go to this little congregation," I flick a finger idly in her direction. "If only just because you want me to." Bending slightly, I scratch her in the curve of her neck, just as she prefers. She chirrups and leans into my touch, twisting her head to offer more of her neck to me. "After all, you deserve a partner who has the courage to face his darkest fears, even if they are old memories, right?"

She doesn't respond, too occupied with the scritching, but when my hand wanes she makes a disgruntled sound and rubs her head further into my palm. I take it for granted that she agrees. I brush her feathers back the wrong way and she shakes her head like a wet pup, I find myself smirking.

'_I will go, for the both of us.'_

I walk to the spider on the wall and, for lack of tissue paper, scoop it up in my hand. Quickly, I place my other hand over it, creating a small enclosed area so that the spider cannot escape.

"See Dranzer," I say thoughtfully, aware of the spider curling fearfully in the center of my palm. "This is how I feel right now. There is a cage around me made up of darkness, memories and nightmares. From this cage I have not yet freed myself. I have kept myself inside of it, trying to hide in a corner, hoping it would just... _go away_." I walk up to the window and set my cupped hands on the sill.

"Perhaps it is time to see if the cage will open a different way." I separate my hands and watch, intrigued, as the spider races away from the surrogate cage and into the greater world.

I turn back to my lovely cot and find Dranzer back in her bit form, completely spent from her efforts. I lie on the bed and curl up under the blanket and trench coat ensemble, only sparing a moment to throw off my shirt so that it would not get wrinkled; I couldn't be made to care about changing the pants right now.

"It's about time that I return to the land of the living."

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**_End Chapter Two_…**

**… _To Be Continued_**

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And now of course, it's time for reviewer comments!

**isthatnecessary: **Hey! Very good, I'm impressed. Although, personally I think you should ask Gabbar. More exciting.

**kavbj: **Hi again! I'm so glad you like chappie 1, I was worried that since I mostly only wrote about Kai in the summary people would be expecting me to write only about Kai, but though Kai is most certainly the main character, the other characters will also have their own say. Oh, and by the by, _certainly _it's not as though we _torture_ our favorite characters, more like we allow them to _experience_ situations of greater difficulty so they can grow past their _debilitating_ hamartia and achieve greater levels of _humanity_. That, and we love watching Kai exact despicable revenge (grins evilly).

The title has been identified and accurately labeled as Hindi, a big congrats goes to **isthatnecessary** for that one! I suppose that's the end of that questionnaire, maybe I'll come up with another one later.

**Adio!**

**Sholay**


	4. Traveling Entertainment

**Chapter 3.**

YES! Would you believe that technically, I wasn't supposed to post this for another few days, but I just couldn't resist. Consider this a 7th day of the 7th month of the 7th year gift!

Jackpot!

**Disclaimer:** No, no and nope. Though I do own the plot. Shall I continue saying no in various languages? No, nese, non, nien, niet, nehi, na, nunka, geen, nao, ingen, oya, tsaa, ci, la, iie, nahin...

Enjoy

**Edit 07/07/07:** Hey! I actually uploaded this chapter last night, but Fanfiction went weird on me and so I had to upload it again. But between then and now I got two reviews! So I guess it really is a lucky day for me!

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

_After the world championships in Russia, Kai just wanted to vanish. Then one day, inevitably, Kai is drawn back and ensnared in an intricate web of magic and legends; wrought by forsaken history and controlled by none other than Voltaire. _

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"_Where ignorance is bliss 'tis folly to be wise"_

- Thomas Gray (1716-1771)

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**Chapter 3: _Traveling Entertainment_**

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'**;**.**;**'_...The Next Day..._

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"FINALLY!!"

The shout rang through the corridors of the school and many of the students raised their heads from their heavy textbooks in annoyance, only to lower them again with mixtures of sighs, shaking heads and smiles as they collectively realized who it was.

"FINALLY! I'M FREE!!"

Tyson ran through the school like a madman shouting his liberation to the whole student population; and he continued running, and shouting in general, until he smacked headfirst into something (or some_one_) and fell backwards with a yelp of surprise.

"HEY! Who did—OH! Chief! I didn't see you there." Tyson blinked, surprised to see the small boy. They both pulled themselves to their feet slowly: Kenny with his laptop clutched tightly against his chest and Tyson, with the thick science book hanging limply from his fingers.

"Tyson," Kenny stated calmly while adjusting his glasses, as though it was a daily occurrence for him to barely escape being road kill at his best friend's feet, "If I may ask, exactly _why _are you on a destructive rampage through the school corridors?"

Tyson ignored the jab and instead smiled widely. "I'm finally finished my exams! I didn't get to do them a week early like Max, so my last one was today. I'm officially free! YEAH!" He took a moment to celebrate with a little dance, while Kenny muttered that Max's case was special and the school didn't usually let—Then Tyson came back to his senses and interrupted the shorter boy mid-lecture.

"Oy, chief? What are YOU doing here? I thought that you finished your last exam yesterday? Don't tell me you love school THAT much?"

"No, no!" Kenny cried, not entirely convincingly. "I just had a small problem with Dizzi and I had to bring her here to… fix it…yeah." He said lamely, drifting off at the end. Kenny was silently glad the computer wasn't turned on, so she couldn't give her opinion on the subject. "An-n-yway, it's a good thing I ran—or rather you ran—into me, Ms. Higurashi wants to see you in her room."

"Ms. H? My math teacher? I wonder why…?"

Tyson and Kenny parted ways, but not before Tyson made one last crack on Kenny's presence at school.

"Hey Kenny, are you in LOVE with school? Huh? Hah, Kenny and Scho-ol sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-S—"

"Sh-shut up!"

"Ooo! Kenny _swore_! Lookit everyone! Kenny swore!" Tyson yelled excitedly, attracting quite a few glances.

"Oh, y-you! You are incorrigible! Absolutely intolerable!" Kenny cried and stormed off. Tyson laughed and sauntered away towards his math class. He wasn't too worried about what his math teacher wanted to talk to him about. After all, nothing could ruin his good day, right?

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'**;**.**;**' ..._Later, but not too much later..._

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"I DON'T WANT HILARY TO TUTOR ME IN MATH!!"

Tyson's voice resonated throughout the school as he bellowed out his objection.

"Alright, then you'd rather fail the course and retake it during the summer instead." His math teacher replied evenly.

When Tyson had entered his teacher's room, he had been all smiles. He had asked the teacher what she had wanted and from there the conversation had deteriorated into the proverbial train wreck.

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'**;**.**;**' _Flashback _'**;**.**;**'

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Tyson had almost reached his math teacher's room when he caught sight of a familiar figure standing next to the door

"What are you doing here?" He asked nastily.

"Why? You gotta problem with it?" She snapped.

"As a matter of fact, I do. What are you, stalking me or something?" He rallied back.

She visibly twitched, but didn't rise to the bait. Instead, a strange smile grew on her face. "Oh yes, Tyson, that's _exactly_ what I'm doing, because, you know, CLEARLY my one desire is to follow you like a rabid fan. I'm not at ALL interested in causing your early demise." Sarcasm dripped from her words like venom.

All of which was lost on Tyson, who grinned. "Oh yeah, see? I knew you were just—"

"Tyson? Is that you?" A soft voice called from inside the door and both teens immediately halted their verbal battle.

Tyson chuckled nervously, hoping his teacher hadn't heard the argument, "Heh heh, yeah, Ms. H, it's me."

"Then can you come in, please, and close the door behind you." Ms. Higurashi called again. Tyson nodded (in spite of the pointlessness of the gesture) and opened the door to the classroom. Sparing his rival one last glare he stepped inside and closed the door after him.

Inside the room, Tyson fidgeted awkwardly. He didn't like being around school unless it was absolutely necessary, and found himself thinking wishfully of the beydish in the park near his house.

"Um," he began, not quite sure what to say. He rubbed his nose self-consciously, "Ms. H? You wanted me for s'mthing?"

Ms. Higurashi looked up from the stack of exams she was correcting. Her lips lifted into a soft smile. "Yes, of course Tyson. Please, sit down. I'll only be a minute." She said in a quiet tone, motioning to the student desk nearest to her own teacher's desk. She then buried her head back into her papers, assuming that Tyson would sit down without further motivation.

Tyson smiled to himself, making his way to the desk slowly and found himself apologizing profusely as he dropped his heavy book on the desk and his teacher jumped and looked around with startled eyes. Sheepish, and still apologizing, Tyson took his seat quietly.

He had always liked Ms. Higurashi. She never yelled, and always seemed calm. She always kept her long black hair pulled into a tight bun, and glasses perched precariously on the tip of her nose. She also had the entire math book memorized.

Of course, it wasn't her knowledge that appealed to Tyson. In reality, Ms. Higurashi was the only teacher laid back enough to let him call her 'Ms. H' and in return, called him 'Tyson' (instead of the customary 'Granger' or 'Mr. Granger'). Hormones, of course, had their own influence on his view as well.

Tyson leaned forward over his desk trying to get a glimpse of the exams his teacher was marking. He was hoping to see 'Granger, T' on one of the papers, but was disappointed when he saw only a 'Zagart, Zeo'; one of the boys from a class below himself.

"Hey, Ms. H? Didja mark mine yet?"

Ms. Higurashi touched the bottom of her pen to her lips thoughtfully and considered Tyson over her glasses.

"As a matter of fact," she said deliberately, careful of her words, "I did. In fact, your exam is the reason I called you here today."

"Oh really?" Tyson asked, excited now. "How'd I do? How'd I do? Did I get the highest mark? Or maybe I aced—"

"You failed, Tyson."

A THUD was heard as Tyson overbalanced the desk and fell face-first onto the ground, the desk tangled between his legs.

With a gasp of shock, Ms. Higurashi rose quickly from her chair and rushed towards Tyson, one hand over her mouth, and the other outstretched in the fallen boy's general direction. The red pen fell, forgotten, on her desk and a small red mark formed near one of the answers on the exam. 'Zagart, Zeo' would later find out that he lost one mark on his exam thanks to that dot.

"Tyson!" The young teacher cried out worriedly. "Oh, _Kami-sama_!" _oh, dear god!_ "Tyson, are you all right? I am so sorry; I should have been less direct. Are you all right?"

Tyson groaned, but managed to disentangle himself from the desk before Ms. Higurashi got there. She helped pull him to a sitting position against the wall and he remained there, legs sprawled out before him, rubbing his forehead with a grimace.

"Owww, that hurt… I don't think I broke anything though…" Tyson let his teacher pull him to his feet. Once he was standing fairly steady his eyes flew to the woman in front of him. "I'm sorry Ms. H, but I don't think I heard you properly. You didn't just s-say that I…f-FAILED my math exam, d-did you?" He asked, his voice squeaking pitifully at the end of the sentence.

Ms. Higurashi sighed tiredly. She was only 32 and already she was getting too old for this job. She ushered Tyson into another desk and this time made him sit sideways. She then lowered herself into the desk he was facing.

"Listen Tyson," she spoke slowly, trying to phrase what she wanted to say in the correct words. "You have great potential. I know for a fact that you can do whatever you put your mind to. Do you remember in the beginning of the year, when Mr. Saotome bet _5000 yen_" _50 _"that you would fail the test on rationals? Do you remember that you got a 100 on that test?"

Tyson gave a small nod, and then added: "But I studied for _ages_ to do it!" He complained.

Before he could add anything else, the older woman raised one hand to silence him, "—and look where it got you! Tyson, not everything is easy in this world. Now, I know that you have certain _talents_…" Her eyes flew to the pocket where Tyson kept Dragoon and his hand unconsciously flew to cover it, as though to protect it.

"—but," continued his teacher. "_But_," she repeated, making sure she had his attention. "You must understand that sometimes things in this life don't just come to you. You have to work to achieve them. Those are the things that stay with you forever."

Tyson was about to interject, but Ms. Higurashi beat him to it.

"I know; I _know_ that you are having a particular amount of difficulty with this subject and I also know that if you don't shape up soon you will most likely fail this course." Her tone picked up and seemed to acquire a teacher-ish 'let's-get-down-to-business' aspect to it. "In light of this," she continued. "I have decided to assign you a tutor."

"A…tutor," repeated the navy haired blader slowly, tasting the word as it rolled over his tongue.

"Yes, this girl has been doing very well in the course this year and she has agreed to spend some time with you over the holidays."

'_A girl eh?'_ Tyson pondered, '_Maybe it won't be so bad. I hope she's pretty, she might even be a fan…'_

"Ok," agreed Tyson. "Who is she?"

"Just wait a second, I asked her to wait outside." Ms. Higurashi rose from the desk and walked towards the door.

'_Outside the door'…_Alarms started going off in Tyson's head. '_Oh no, it couldn't be-…!'_

"Miss Tatibana, would you come in now?"

'_It is.'_

As soon as Hilary stepped into the room, he knew his fears had been confirmed.

"YOU!" They both cried as one.

Ms. Higurashi looked back and forth between the shocked teens, missing the tension in the room as it escalated to dangerous levels. "Oh good!" She said excitedly. "You know each other."

Her voice finally faltered when she noticed the evil glares the two were giving each other.

"Um, is there a problem here?" She asked hesitantly.

"I don't want her to teach me over Christmas!" Tyson cried. "I'd rather loose my title as World Champion Beyblader."

The teacher shook her head slowly, "I'm sorry Tyson. There is no one else. Do you feel the same way?" The last part was directed at Hilary, who appeared strangely thoughtful.

"I-" the girl started, then paused to consider something. "I… am still willing." She said gingerly.

Tyson was stupefied. "WHAT!? Don't let her do it Ms. H. She'll choke me when I'm sleeping. Either that or she'll poison me while I'm eating."

Hilary's eyes narrowed but she said nothing.

"Tyson!" The teacher admonished. "Don't speak about her in such a way. She is here to help you. Do not act so childish, this is the only way you will pass the course."

Tyson crossed his arms and set his jaw stubbornly. "I DON'T WANT HILARY TO TUTOR ME IN MATH!" His voice resonated throughout the school.

"Alright, then you'd rather fail the course and retake it during the summer instead." She replied evenly.

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'**;**.**;**' _End Flashback _'**;**.**;**'

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All was quiet in the room. Tyson and Hilary stood no more than three paces from each other: one with ire clear in his features, and the other unreadable. Ms. Higurashi stood between the two, looking more than a little annoyed.

Finally, the silence was broken by the person they least expected to speak up.

"Look, I promise I won't do anything funny, okay? Also I apologize for putting gum in your hair." Hilary herself looked surprised that she had spoken.

Tyson returned the statement with a look of astonishment, while Ms. Higurashi looked at Hilary with interest and mild amusement. Hilary merely glared a hole in her shoes and for a moment all was silent again.

"Well," started Tyson suddenly. "You should be! After all-"

"Tyson." The teacher warned.

"The boy sighed and relented finally. "Oh, ok. I'm sorry for making fun of you. Happy?" He was amazed once more when the girl before him stuck out her hand.

"Truce?" She asked.

Tyson walked forward and considered the hand for a second before shaking it with a jerk. "Truce." He said, then in a low whisper added, "that doesn't mean I like you."

Hilary smirked. "Dually noted, and the sentiment is fully returned."

Ms. Higurashi sighed inwardly. She was glad things had worked out, it saved her the extra effort (whether it would have been needed in a trip to the nurse, or after-school tutoring, she wasn't sure though).She had to give that girl, Hilary, credit though; first, for taking on such a hard challenge so readily –even if personal gain was a factor– and second; for pacifying the stubborn Tyson. The teacher knew first hand how difficult that could be. "I'm glad you reached an agreement. Now there is only one more thing to work out."

Tyson and Hilary looked at her in question. "I understand that you, Tyson, are going away for the holidays, am I correct?"

Tyson's eyes widened. "Of course! Me, Max, Kenny and Kai are all going to Russia for a Beyblade reunion! Hilary can come too if she wants, we have a whole plane." Here he shrugged, as though it was only natural to travel in a private jet. Ms. Higurashi looked at him with a raised eyebrow, while Hilary seemed to be in shock. Tyson continued "We leave tomorrow. It's the whole break."

Hilary made a choking noise. "TOMORROW?! OH MY _GOD_!" she cried aghast. "I'll never be ready on time! I have to go pack!" Then before either Tyson or his teacher could blink she had disappeared from the room.

"What is she in such a hurry for?" Queried Tyson, utterly baffled.

Ms. Higurashi just laughed, "call it a 'girl thing'" was her brief explanation.

Tyson was hesitant in asking what this 'girl thing' was, but before his curiosity could win out he was surprised to see Hilary's face reappear around the threshold.

"_Ano_…" _umm…_"I just wanted to ask you one thing," she said innocently.

"What is it?" Tyson asked, making a forced attempt to be civil.

"What's a bay-blade?"

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**_End Prologue_…**

**… _To Be Continued_**

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...K'amaj, yelem, aye, voch, ba, ne, uh-uh, nee, ochi...

And I leave you there! No, I can't believe she hasn't heard of Beyblade either!

Time for Reviewer Answers! Let me just say that I'm so glad to be getting reviews, when I started I wasn't expecting any, since Beyblade the TV show has been canceled for a long time now (at least where I live), and it's been even longer since the first season was aired... So thanks everybody! It's one thing to like your own story, but it's something else completely to find out that other people like it too!

Oh yes! And before I forget...**Sooryavansham** is pronounced **(Soo-riuh-vuhn-shum)** and it does in fact mean **the dynasty of the sun.**

**kavbj: **Hi again! And YES I agree also, Kai had better return, or where are we gonna find ourselves a story?? And as for the spider part, I totally would never pick up one with my bare hands. But the story is still self-inspired: on more than one occasion in my house, we find these huge hairy spiders (like the rubber ones in stores) and as my sisters are usually disinclined to ahemcough 'pick up the evil thing', I'm stuck with bug duty. Definitely not fun, but it made for a much better story prop! Oh yeah, and I put the pronunciation of the word 'Sooryavansham' as well as the meaning above in the ambiguous reader's section, since many people must be wondering how to say that word. Thanks for reviewing each chapter, and I'll try my best!

**Anonymous: **Thanks for your compliment, I hope you keep reading my story!

**banan: **Yay! I love long reviews! And I'm glad you decided to review now, since even I don't know how long this story is going to be! So far, I've written a few chapters ahead, the two-week update pace is ok, but I'm not sure what will happen when school starts, hopefully by then I'll have written far enough ahead to keep all you readers author friendly ;). By the way, I also love Kai torture just as much as the next fangirl, and there will be plenty of it in this story, believe me. And the spider part was just as much fun to write as it was to read :). Also, there will be some OC's in this story, but no Mary Sue's, Gary Stu's or even any within Kai's age range, so don't worry. As for the title of the story, well there are a few reasons why I chose it, not just because of the meaning and not just because of the language... but... well, I'm not going to tell you! It'll ruin the story, the title _will _eventually become _very important_, but not for quite some time, you'll just have to wait! And read! You're English is just fine, I couldn't even tell it isn't your first language, but what language do you speak, by the way?

**FlamingIce94:** Hi! Thanks for reviewing, I'm glad you like my story, but I'll bet you weren't expecting this next chapter to come up so soon!

**UNpReDiCtAbLE lIfE:** Hi, cool name, I had to keep checking back to your review so I could get all the capitals right! As for updating fast... well here it is! This chappie was supposed to come up last night but it didn't, so I uploaded it again. Anyway, I'm glad you're learning new words, when I write Kai I always get the impression that he's very well spoken, has impeccable grammer, and does it all without really realizing it. So he's ALWAYS stretching my writing abilities, and I ALWAYS write him with a thesaurus on my lap. Stupid phoenix _;tries to smack Kai over the head but he moves away without even looking like he moved a muscle;_ Ahh... no fair!

**Adio!**


	5. The Day Before

**Chapter 4! **

For all you Kai lovers out there! Personally I think it's my best chapter so far, a little humor and a healthy dose of angst, all circumvented by deep introspection… eh… I'm thinking too much, tell me what you guys think!

**Disclaimer:** If I didn't own it in the last 4 chapters, do you really think I own it now? Beyblade is the property of Takao Aoki. The Huo family is mine however and I ask that no one uses them—or my plot line for that matter—without my permission. Thank you.

Reviewer notes are at the end

Enjoy!

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_**I**_**I**_...blah...__**I**_**I** denotes a change in language

**Some things to note in this chapter:**

1) The city of Moscow is occasionally referred to as _Moskva_. Why? Because that's how it's spelled in Russian.

2) For those of you interested in subliminal messaging, there are a few ironies throughout the story I didn't point them out because they were made purely for my own enjoyment, if any of you notice these, feel free to tell me in a review, I'd like to know who catches these weird things (unless it's all just in my head, sometimes even I don't know what I'm talking about...)

3) Finally, I realize my Russian is deplorable. If anyone out there sees a mistake that I have made in my rough translations, please do correct me. I am by no means an expert, having only studied out of a book…

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

_After the world championships in Russia, Kai just wanted to vanish. Then one day, inevitably, Kai is drawn back and ensnared in an intricate web of magic and legends; wrought by forsaken history and controlled by none other than Voltaire. _

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"_Out of the crooked timber of humanity no straight thing can ever _

_be_

_made."_

—Immanuel Kant (1724-1804)

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**Chapter 4: _The Day Before_**

Alright. It is four days before Christmas, two days before the anniversary of my employers and one day before that accursed reunion in the capital. Funny how life works is it not? Even better, here I am some few thousand odd kilometers away from Moskva in the somewhat remote city of Izhevsk getting ready for another long day of waiting tables.

Question of the day: How the hell am I going to travel to Moskva after working hours?

The Answer: …I don't know yet

I told Dranzer to think of something while I am working.

Speaking of which…

"Kolya!"

Right on time.

Slipping out of my room, I close the door cautiously—it collapses at the slightest hint of aggression, and I don't much appreciate its defensive mechanism: falling on my head—and walk through the adjourning unlit corridor; again, careful to step lightly, one can never be too careful in this place.

As usual, the staircase creeks ominously beneath my feet, with the banister providing more decoration than any real consolation, but I ignore all this, far too used to it to be affected. The light increases as I descend and once on the main floor I can clearly see the grey-blue hues of early morning as they struggle into view.

No sooner have I reached the floor am I immediately grabbed by two pairs of tiny hands.

"Sonya, Mikhail" I sigh their names softly. "_Pashyemu nyeh viy stvoyay matu?" …Why aren't you with your mother?_ My words are _Russki_. Russian. I have not spoken much else in a year; the entire family speaks it fluently.

They let out a burst of identical giggles and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Bending down, I scoop up the two five year olds, detaching them from my legs easily. They seem to enjoy this as they both squeal and clutch at my neck. Sparing a moment to be glad that I am not wearing my scarf—the last time they had got their hands on it had been _stifling_, to say the least—I then continue on my way.

Arriving at a small door, I shift Mikhail, not without some difficulty as he clings tightly to my shoulder, and pull it open, stepping into the main room: the dining room of the modest restaurant I worked in. In spite of the deteriorated look the back had, the restaurant itself is, for the most part, aesthetically pleasing. The room is of a fair size and during open hours there is always a fire curling in the corner hearth; that, added to the homemade burgundy drapes, soft, cushioned seats, and choice of table, private booth or bar, makes the restaurant almost homely.

Carrying the twins around the bar I enter the kitchen and finally spot what—or rather, who—I'm looking for: A thin woman in her mid thirties is rushing around the room opening and closing cupboards haphazardly as she frantically searches for something, or some_one_. I look down at the children in my arms and this time make my tone chastising,

"Sonya? Mikhail? Have you been causing trouble for your mother?" All I gain is another fit of giggling, and I desist at my pathetic attempt at scolding, preferring to leave the disciplinary methods to the young woman who is now walking quickly towards us, brushing back her long auburn hair—much of which has fallen out of her loose ponytail into disorderly strands. She looks both relieved and disapprobatory, a pure motherly look of impending doom. Smirking, I don't even have to look down to see the guilty looks the twins now bear.

Leaning towards the children in my arms she raises her index finger in warning.

"You know you're not allowed to run off like that! Mikhail, you are only allowed to play your games in the same room as me, and Sonya, how many times have I told you: you are not allowed to leave the house, and not to drag Mikhail along with you! I don't want you two running around playing hide and seek without telling me, ok… _ok_?" She looks at them both in turn. Her Russian, much like her children's is heavily accented but not unintelligible.

Absently, I wonder how she knew what they were doing if they had been hiding from her. Meanwhile the siblings curl into me abashed, nodding, and chorus a sad "_ezveneetyeh, Mummy._" _Sorry Mummy._ Mentally, I applaud her ability; proper credit is due to someone who can sedate these two.

I put the kids down and they immediately rush to thier mother who holds them to her body tightly. Intoning a quiet: 'Thank God you're both ok.' She strokes their heads and makes sure they are fine, and then her eyes fall to me. I wonder for a brief moment if I had any blame in this matter, pondering possible escape routes from her anger; but I am surprised when she smiles gratefully.

"Kolya, you're a miracle! These two have been absolutely…incorrigible!" I swallow my smirk at her word choice, but can't quite suppress sending her a dry look. A strong word like that should only be attributed to people like Tyson… or maybe G—I quickly kill that thought, shaking my head slightly as it brings up bad memories, and concentrate instead on what the woman in front of me is saying.

"First Mikhail with his silly games," she is saying, oblivious to my thoughts. "Then Sonya come with her crazy schemes… oh, never mind. I'm just glad they didn't leave the house. I hope they didn't give you too much trouble?"

Well, they didn't tackle me on the stairs, we can all be grateful for that, the experience would…not have been pleasant. Realizing she is wanting in a reply, I close my eyes and give a small, single shake of my head.

"That's good," she continues, smiling her unique broad grin. "I'm glad you found them, Kolya, I don't know what I'd do without you!"

I am not smiling, but at least there is no indifferent scowl—which actually, isn't as much of an oxymoron as one would think—and simply incline my head slightly in respect.

"It is no trouble, Mrs. Huo." And I turn to return to my chores.

"Kolya," she calls, and I turn. "You should smile more often; you look handsome when you smile."

I nod my head again and turn back around. Behind me I hear Mrs. Huo sigh and internally I join her. Every day we go through the same thing and she never tires of it. I wish she would stop though, I made a promise. One I never intend to break again.

I step past the swinging doors and leave my troubled thoughts behind with Mrs. Huo. Glancing around the restaurant I mentally stock what needs to be done: Tables are wiped, that's good, the placements need to be set, the floor could use a mopping, and if I recall properly, Mrs. Huo had wanted Table 8 moved, something about—…

"Oie! Tet!" My train of thought interrupted by the voice behind me, I turn and see Mr. Huo standing nearby rinsing his hands. A sturdy 30-something year old, Mr. Eligio Huo, Eli to his friends, is the proud owner of this establishment. Tall and awkward with large wire rimmed glasses and thick cobalt blue hair that falls into his eyes more often than not, Mr. Huo does not cut a very intimidating figure. His humor and easy going attitude are reputable however, as is his strange penchant for calling people nicknames and he went through quite a few with mine. First, middle or last name, none of them were safe from Mr. Huo's scrutiny; 'Kolya Zarakovich Tretyakov' was abysmally inexhaustible in its choices. He called me everything under the sun—even toyed with 'Zara' for awhile, before I finally put my foot down. I refuse to be referred to by a girl's name—until finally settling on 'Tet'. Why, I'm not quite sure, but it amuses him, so I humor him. It's easier on everyone that way.

"Get to work over there, yesterday customers were complaining about cockroaches, so I need you to clean that area up." His words, unlike wife and children, hold only a very slight accent, one I have not yet been able to identify, though it grates on my nerves as familiar to a disturbing degree.

I look over to the area he was pointing at, Table 8, of course, and scoff silently '_Whoever heard of cockroaches this far up north?'_ Just as I finish that thought in my head I spot a suspicious dirt brown smudge making its way lazily across the tabletop.

'_And I stand corrected…so much for the aesthetically pleasing factor. There's always Mr. Huo's stand up comedy to fall back on…strike that, the cockroaches are probably better, at least they don't cause mental trauma.'_

Sighing audibly now, I resign myself to the task at hand, grabbing bug spray, an apron, a cloth and whisk broom. Stepping quickly, I bend over, prepared to swipe up the offending insect when it decides it's against the idea, sprouts wings, and takes off into the corner where it happily scuttles under a booth.

I groan and kneel down completely, grabbing the whisk.

'_This day is not starting well'_

* * *

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An hour later, the entire corner booth and Table 8 are clean. So clean, in fact, that I realize the rest of the restaurant looks dirty compared to it. The strange phenomenon is not lost on Mr. Huo who gazes around with a low whistle.

"Tet, I think you're gonna have to do a lot of cleaning after hours today."

The day passes slowly. Customers come in, I greet them, seat them and take orders. I bring the orders back to Mrs. Huo, who's cooking is actually quite spectacular. Mr. Huo, as usual, moves back and forth between us, sometimes helping me greet customers and take orders, sometimes helping around the kitchen for Mrs. Huo. Usually he acts as damage control, often doing small jobs: such as running out for extra ingredients in the event that we have underestimated the inventory. Sonya and Mikhail meanwhile remain in the kitchen with their mother. Ordinarily they are relatively well behaved and play only within the woman's immediate sight.

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'**;**.**;**'

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On any normal day, not many customers visit the restaurant and today is no exception. Inevitably, I find myself sitting idly at the bar watching the remaining customers chat and laugh. Not for the first time I note their similar baggy white-beige outfits; communists. One of the hardest things to get used to when coming back to Russia was the drastic change in economy style. Not so much in Moskva anymore, but the smaller rural areas outside the capital are still quite obviously communistic, in spite of what the government claims, and the small freedoms allowed hither and yon.

Looking behind me I see Mrs. Huo in her bright red dress and flowery apron and Mr. Huo in his grey business suit and distasteful pink tie. Sonya and Mikhail too sport colorful outfits, even my somewhat plain uniform stands out. Altogether we make up one of the only, if not the only, anticommunist groups in the city. Some people would see this as an admirable act of courage, while others condemn it as foolishness. Personally, for me it is neither, it merely means that less people will come here and as a consequence my payroll drops.

"_**I**_**I **_You know, Honey,_ _**I**_**I**" I hear Mr. Huo's voice floating from the kitchen and casually lean back to hear more. "_**I**_**I **_Sometimes I think it would have been better if we had never left China._ _**I**_**I**" He is speaking in Chinese and I realize the conversation was meant to be private. I don't bother to back off however; they are not aware I can understand the language, after all.

"_**I**_**I **_You know very well what would have happened._ _**I**_**I**" Mrs. Huo's voice is terse in her reply, seeming to dislike where the conversation was leading. There are some clinking sounds and I assume she is stacking plates for washing, silently I hope she does not drop any; Mrs. Huo gets clumsy when she is emotional and the plates are expensive to replace.

She makes a huffing sound then continues, "_**I**_**I **_We would have been incarcerated for our anti-communist movement. We would have finally given my family a solid reason to renounce me. Oh yes, and let's not forget that even if we did get out of jail we'd have been excommunicated from the society. Forced out or leaving of our own free will, either way we had nothing left in China. Besides, what would have happened to Kolya? __**I**_**I**"

"_**I**_**I **_What about him?_ _**I**_**I**" The man asks, choosing not only the most irrelevant point Mrs. Huo brought up, but the only one I had hoped he wouldn't. "_**I**_**I **_He's a strong, independent young lad. He's more than capable of taking care of himself._ _**I**_**I**"

"Eli," she says slowly, condescendingly. "_**I**_**I **_When the poor boy showed up on our step he was starved, homeless, penniless and nearly delirious with fever. He was begging us for a place to stay and insisted on taking a job when he could barely stand! __**I**_**I**"

'_Definitely not one of my most meritorious moments'_ I think, wincing with my vague recollection of that day: I hardly remember anything—they had been chasing me for weeks and by then I was so far gone I could barely think straight—but what I do remember involves too much wretched behavior for my liking.

"_**I**_**I **_If we hadn't given that boy shelter, food and work, who knows what would have happened to him?_ _**I**_**I**"

"_**I**_**I **_I know, I know!_ _**I**_**I**" Huo's impatient voice cut through her soft one easily. "_**I**_**I **_But Shiori, you have to stop thinking about other people, stop being their hero. As of right now we are stuck here. We are too stubborn to change our ideals and too poor to cheat ourselves over the border without visas. You have to be wondering: what's going to happen to us? And Mikhail and Sonya? How are we going to survive? __**I**_**I**"

Mrs. Huo is silent and I turn forward again in my seat. With my elbows on my knees and my chin in my palms I think for a second. Mr. and Mrs. Huo, along with myself, are the only workers in this restaurant. Sonya and Mikhail are too young. If I had told them my real age I would still be too young as well, lack of proper identification had helped with that. I know for a fact that without me the Huo's could not handle this restaurant; we are struggling as is. Living as 'illegal aliens' in a foreign country doesn't exactly help the situation either. However, I know that I could very well be the only thing keeping them from trying to emigrate out of this country. If I am correct, their visa does not expire for another few months, but the time for that action is quickly running out and they still have to deal with one last problem: me.

I do not belong here, not in Russia, not in any country, really. If the law found me they would do either one of two things:

a) Put me in an orphanage, or

b) Ship me back to Japan, for them to deal with me, which might lead back to a)

But if I did end up back in Japan, I would be lucky to find myself in an orphanage. There are much worse things that could happen if I return there. Therein lies the reason why I continue to choose option c):

Do not get involved.

"Hey Tet!"

I'm startled by the voice that suddenly comes from behind me, but my body resists the urge to jerk and instead my mind interferes, identifying the voice and dismissing the threat. My head turns slowly and I consciously unclench my hand from the defensive fist it had curled into; which I believe is the only visible indication that I had not seen him approaching me. '_Trained to the fault by that fastidious old man'_ I think dryly, not quite sure _which_ fastidious old man in my life I'm referring to, there have been a few.

"_Da_, Mr. Huo?" _Yes, Mr. Huo?_I glanced at him apprehensively; I have an idea, a bad one, about where this is going to end up. The older man glances furtively between me, the customers and a dark corner, running a hand through his cobalt blue hair nervously. The sick feeling just solidifies. Like spoilt milk.

"I need to talk to you in the other room for a minute."

I glance over to the customers with affected concern but am already standing by the time Mr. Huo says "They'll be fine for a few minutes." I want to get this over with quickly. Nodding slightly I follow him through the back door into the narrow corridor near the rickety stairs. Once the door closes behind us the man collapses against the wall. He looks exhausted but I merely stand to his side, crossing my arms and eying him dispassionately. After a moment, he sighs.

"Listen Kolya," he starts and I immediately know it's one of his bad ones. He never calls me that unless-

"I need you to look after Shiori and the kids. I'm going out tonight."

I knew it.

Mr. Huo's greatest fault is his inability to deal with stress. At least once every couple of weeks he will crumple under the pressure and leave to go out and drown his troubles, leaving Mrs. Huo to clean up the mess afterwards. It never fails to disgust me how even the proudest man can be brought low by a few short hours of oblivion.

Silence reigns as I refuse to offer him the sympathy he wants; he runs a hand through his hair again. Looking from side to side, his eyes get a slightly crazed look to them.

"Look, I need to get some things off my mind, the guys having been asking for me. I'm _tired, _Kolya…"

I look away scowling. I shouldn't be in this situation. I feel like a parent holding the cookie jar away from an obstinate child. I've been able to stop him before, but this time he looks particularly driven… Mrs. Huo should be the one working out his problems with him…

But that is not an option. Should they end up fighting again…

"Argh!" I hear a heavy dull sound next to me and know that he has struck out at the wall.

It could have been worse.

I look back at him, and my eyebrows crease when I see him nearly entreating me, with hands open in front of him in a gesture I see as self-abasing.

"I won't drink too much, I swear it."

I restrain a snort. The weak-minded fool couldn't say no to a free shot at a night club on his children's birthday. My silence proves detrimental though as he takes it for scorn—which I'm not denying, exactly—and his temper flares.

"Fine!" He yells loudly and I glance quickly at the door; the customers had better not have heard him. He takes no notice and continues to rant "Damn you, Nicolai, I don't need your permission! I'll do whatever I want." He grabs the door and yanks it open violently.

It is at that very belated moment that my brain decides to apathetically point out the upcoming reunion and the ramifications of Mr. Huo's late night excursions. I can't let him go out. Without me, Mrs. Huo and the twins would be left alone, and I can't miss the meeting…

Already hating myself for what I'm going to do, I force myself to reach around Mr. Huo and halt the door in its path. He raises a disdainful eyebrow and lets out an irritated "What is it, Kolya?" Signifying that whatever I have to say it had better be quick, but he was back to calling me 'Kolya', one step down from the raging mad 'Nicolai'. The door closes and I face him once more.

I take a break and resolve myself to this. "Sir," I managed that much, now for the rest, "Wait for a moment… _pajalsta_" _Please._

The use of entreatment is what catches his attention. He frowns at me over his large circular glasses, but at least I have his attention. I grit my teeth...as much as I hate begging…

"You mustn't go out tonight." Eh, old habits die hard I guess, that still came out as more of an order, at least I'm not flat out pleading.

"Ex_cuse_ me?" His voice has a warning tone to it, but is also suspicious, meaning I still have a chance at this.

"I have certain… obligations that I must attend to tomorrow. I must leave tonight." I notice his frown deepen and quickly continue before he can accuse me of lying. "Please, sir." Now I've crossed the line into pleading, and I suppress a wince at the word 'please'. "I've worked here for a year and have never taken so much as a sick leave. Mrs. Huo said that whenever I wanted a day off I could take one. I choose tomorrow."

"Why?"

A question so simple, and yet becomes so complex. I try to phrase my answer in the least stand-offish manner:

"There is," I start, "a personal matter—"

"Can't it wait?" The man waves dismissively. I ignore my irritation and realize that I'm going to have to convince him of the importance of this matter. Hopefully he won't require proof; that could lead to a few problems. I was lucky enough when they didn't recognize me the day I showed up on their doorstep, even luckier still when it turned out that they had previously been poverty stricken and isolated, not having any access to the television or international news. They wouldn't find out about me any time soon, but flashing the name 'Bladebreakers' and 'International Beyblading Association' might as well equate to me jumping up and down with a banner saying 'I'm not who you think I am!' Back to the matter at hand though…

"There is an important meeting that I am expected to attend tomorrow, in Moskva—"

"_Moscow!_" He crows incredulously, his odd accent making the name come out more in its western translation. I sigh and look away. "Since when have YOU been important enough to get invited to meetings? In MOSCOW, no less. You're foolish Kolya, either they're playing you or you're delusional again."

The comment shouldn't have stung as much as it does; after all, to them I am just an orphaned street rat that they've charitably given work and board for… But even so…

I take a breath and attempt to be appeasing. Uncrossing my arms I hold them out in much the same imploring, self-abasing gesture Mr. Huo had not moments ago.

"Please sir, could you go the day after tomorrow? I won't say a word to Mrs. Huo. I promise I'll be back before the restaurant opens and I'll look after it completely when you go out." Disgusting, I should just complete the act by getting down on my hands and knees and kissing his feet. I'm lower than the mud on his shoes. Disgusting.

Mr. Huo looks surprised, as though he's never seen me before; silently I hope he doesn't get any ideas to use my conceding behavior to his advantage.

"This meeting must be important to you." He states in a low voice.

I say nothing, I refuse to say anything. He will either agree with me or disagree with me now; I refuse to debase myself further.

"Eli! Kolya! Where are you?! DID YOU FORGET THERE ARE CUSTOMERS HERE?! HURRY UP AND GET OUT HERE BEFORE I COME AND GET YOU TWO MYSELF!!"

We both start and look up at the door, then each other. We realize at the same time that our conversation must have lasted longer than either of us had expected and the customers had been neglected.

"Well, then Tet, we better listen to the lady and get out there!" Mr. Huo suddenly says in a much too cheery voice. He opens the door with a flourish and walks out, but not before halting half-way with a few parting words:

"I'm taking your word for it, Tet. The day after tomorrow it is. I better see you out there soon."

He exits, leaving me in the hall feeling quite despicable.

It isn't even more than a blink of an eye before my switchblade is out and flashing a thin pink line across my lower arm, which quickly reddens, swelling with overflowing blood. My sleeve is already rolled up past my elbow, before I had even consciously thought about it, so it was not stained. Another flash and then one more and two cuts, this time shallower, have joined the first, swelling but only beading with the red liquid, not dripping. It hurts more that way.

_Empty._

It is gone. All emotion, all sensation: the harsh coolness of the blade on my skin, the sting of the cuts, the relief of the blood flowing out and the disgust from before, all gone.

Some people say that when they cut themselves, the destructive feelings vanish, flow outward with the blood, or that the sight of blood lightens their burdens. The feeling is then chased by the consuming remorse at having drawn one's own blood. Such is not the case with me. From the moment the blade touches my skin to the moment the blood is flowing I am driven for one reason and one reason alone: to punish my weakness. The emotions that accompany the act become diluted, muted, after the act; bearable once more.

I look closer at the blood on the largest cut as it congeals in blotches on my arm. The blood fascinates…satisfies me in a strange way. Is it intoxication? No, it is not that intense… one would—could—call it curiosity. I feel no remorse or regret now. I suppose psychiatrists would shake their heads and allege to one another in a dogmatic drawl: 'He simply has not reached that stage yet. Once we work on him for a few days he will understand, _eta_ _kak dvazhdy dva_' _it's as easy as two times two._

I feel empty as I stare down at the blood on my upturned arm. I hold it, with my elbow bent and the lower arm pointed away from my body, my other hand is held right underneath, catching any drops that may have otherwise fallen to the ground. The cuts are strategically placed: not too low that they would show beneath my blue shirt cuff, and not so high that they show above the red arm guards I wear when not in uniform. It is strange, I suppose. I guess one could say I have a problem, spout some nonsense about self-esteem and less destructive ways to vent emotion. I do not see the problem though. What I do does not hurt anyone, no one even notices; I have no emotional issues, the scars fade and no permanent damage is done. Some people say that only girls cut themselves, while boys fight. All I can say to that is at least I am not leaving a trail of dead bodies in my wake.

Quite spontaneously, I abruptly give myself a shake and break out of my reverie. What strange, nonsensical thoughts I am _indulging_ in. I wonder if psychoanalyzing oneself while pushing a blade into one's flesh is normal behavior, or if I am just special. Of course, it's not as though it is a question that could be brought up into conversation. Oh yes, I can imagine the gob smacked response to '_what do you think about when _you _cut yourself?'_ bright idea, a real bright idea if I have ever heard one.

In the background to my thoughts I hear Mrs. Huo calling for me again, the warning in her tone clear. Finally I realize I'm just standing in the middle of the hall with blood rolling down my arm. If anyone is to come into the room—

Almost running, I rush to the bathroom, closing the door—locking the door—without a thought. Ignoring the tap, I instead reach for the toilet paper and unroll a fair amount. Twisting the tissue so that it can soak up more blood, I then examine my arm, noticing with satisfaction that some of the blood had dried over the cut, not allowing any more to seep out. I had held my arm facing upwards for that exact desired result. Grabbing a few more squares of paper, I wet them and rub off some excess blood that had spilled over. I discard the tissue into the toilet and flush it immediately. It simply would not do for Mrs. Huo to accidentally find bloody toilet paper in the garbage.

I wrap the twisted paper around my arm a few times then make a light knot, careful not to rip the tissue, and tuck the ends in neatly. I give the makeshift bandage a tight squeeze ignoring the slight sting as paper slides into the wounds. This way I can make sure the tissue could hold the excess blood and disallow it from leaking through or around the bandage accidentally. Flicking the sleeve of the blouse down lightly, I raise my arm to regard it closely, and am appeased to find that not only does the bandage not show through the shape of the shirt, but the only discomfort I feel, really, is a stickiness on my arm, perhaps a negligible amount of numbness in the tips of my fingers as well, but that was easily ignorable.

It is not the cleanest way to deal with a cut, but using water would have made the cut bleed again, taking much too long. Besides, my body does not come by infections easily, so I am not really concerned. Placating the scolding tone in the back of my mind—which could have been my conscience or Dranzer, I am not sure—by deciding that I would clean up the scratch later, I quietly shut the bathroom door and walk into the restaurant.

"THERE you are!" Cries Mrs. Huo as she passes me quickly, looking harassed. I feel a twinge of guilt as I realize how long I had left her to handle the crowd alone.

"Tables 3, 5, 9, 8, 4, 12, 6, 10, 16: bill, order, bill, bill, order, cleanup, order, menu… _new_ _cutlery._" She scrambles out in one breath, muttering the last part venomously, adding "apparently it's not _clean enough_ for them" in a deadly tone. It takes me a moment to understand and I blink at her.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Go!" She shoos me off with an exasperated, but thankfully not angry, voice. I nod and quickly walk away. For now it's just another day.

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**_End Prologue_…**

**… _To Be Continued_**

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**

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!!Oh yeah, and please, please tell me if you guys are okay with my Original Characters. The Huo family is my own creation and depending on whether you guys like them or not, they could become more important (but they will NEVER take away from the main characters!), so yeah, review and tell me what you think!!**

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Yay! Reviewer notes time!

Just so everyone knows, I'm going to try and keep a schedule of updating every two/three weeks, depending on the vicious reality checks my Life has (honestly, it didn't help that Kai supplied her with a two by four…(whack!) OW! That hurts!… (glances over to see Kai smirking in a corner) And no smart comments from you either! There's too much going on in your head as it is, I mean how much DID you say in this chapter? Remember, you're still cleaning the floors tonight; I could make it REALLY unpleasant… (Kai glares) Aie! Ok, ok…fine… honestly, you just can't win with these two around! ANYWAY! Now for you guys!

**kavbj: **Hiya! Well, what can I say? (gives a sheepish look) I had to get Hilary to join the party somehow… and I was thinking… 'why would Hilary, someone who doesn't beyblade, join the group?'… Then I remembered that scene in Vforce where she's chasing Tyson down the street because he shirked cleaning duty and I was like 'YES! School! She could be his tutor!'… and the chapter was born… Tyson of course had to have his own thickheaded moments, but we all love him…somewhere…deep down. XD

**phoenix-falling: **Hola! Glad you like the chappie, I'll try to keep updating every 2-3 weeks, hopefully I can also write ahead enough to be able to keep that pace once school starts. Keep reading! And reviewing please! Me likey reviews!

**UNpReDiCtAbLE lIfE: **Ha, well thank YOU for reviewing, I'll try to keep updating as fast as I can. And if you like Kai chapters, this was definitely the update for you! I had waaayy too much fun writing it, even if it was a little depressing…

**Adio!**


	6. Truth

It's-a me! **Chapter 5** all nice and prettied up for your viewing.

Enjoy

**Disclaimer:** (Waves around the elder wand... "Make me owner of Beyblade"...nothing happens..._'darn tinsel wands'... _puts a lighter to the tip... _POOF... _ow) Ok that didn't work... fine... I don't own beyblade, happy?

Note, I will refer to **Tyson's Grandfather** as **Mr. Granger** or **Ryu**. I realize Ryuunosuke is his Japanese name, but since he has no American name I decided to go with it. So don't be confused if I say Ryu Granger, I didn't invent a new relative, I'm just talking about Tyson's Grandfather!

OH! Last chapter,** Keylor** was kind enough to inform me that in the anime, Max's father is a shop owner and not a chef/writer as I had previously assumed. I apologize for the mistake, but ask that you guys bear with me; I'm not going to change it, after all they don't call it 'fanfiction' for nothing... Therefore, in my fic, Mr. Tate knows near to nothing about beyblade and he's a chef and part time author. Ok? Ok! On with the chapter.

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

_After the world championships in Russia, Kai just wanted to vanish. Then one day, inevitably, Kai is drawn back and ensnared in an intricate web of magic and legends; wrought by forsaken history and controlled by none other than Voltaire._

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"_I never give them hell. I just tell the truth and they think it's hell."_

-Harry S. Truman (1884-1972)

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**Chapter 5: _Truth_**

It was the morning of the big trip; Tyson and Hilary were heading toward the airport terminal where the private jet, courtesy of the International Beyblade Association, would be arriving to take them to Russia. Unsurprisingly, they were arguing:

"Beyblades are NOT stupid!"

"Yes they are, being able to spin a top is _not _something to be proud of! And sticking a dragon sticker on top of it does _not_ make it cool!"

"Don't insult Dragoon! He a-"

"You have a _name_ for that sticker?!"

"ME AND HIM ARE WORLD CHAMPIONS!"

"Yeah, of the World's Most Childish Sport...and it's he and _I._"

"Beyblading is NOT stupid!"

"It is so!"

"It is NOT!"

"IS SO!"

"IS NOT!"

"Arrghuh!"

Words soon dissolved into a staring contest.

Max sighed. Where was Kenny when you needed him? The blond boy dropped his heavy green duffel bag on the ground and glanced around himself. The chief was nowhere to be seen and Max found himself making exasperated faces at thin air. Behind him, Tyson, carrying a blue duffel, and Hilary, towing an enormous red suitcase, argued their way to Gate 55B at the airport, or rather the terminal that would lead them to Gate 55B, they had to wait for Kenny and Mr. Dickenson to arrive before they could go any further. Max sighed again and settled into one of the hard airport chairs. It was going to be a very _long_ flight to Moscow.

"I still don't get it, what's so important about those bay-thingies—"

"BEYBLADES!"

"—yeah, whatever, those spinning top things. What's so important about them?"

"AH!" Tyson threw up his hands in frustration. "How many times do I have to tell you!? Beyblades hold the power of our bitbeasts and these bitbeasts are VERY important to the blader… Uh, who am I kidding? You wouldn't understand any way 'cause you're a girl."

Hilary's eyes narrowed and her voice lowered dangerously, "And what's THAT supposed to mean?!" Her hands rested on her hips and she stared threateningly at Tyson, completely ignoring the few inches of height he had on her. The boy backed away and rubbed his nose nervously. He then laughed a little.

"Hey, no offense or anything, but in my entire career I've only seen, like… two girls who could really blade: Emily and—hey Maxie, you remember Mariah right?"

Max looked up and grinned widely as memories of the White Tigers came back to him. "Of course I do, Ty! Who could forget her? I mean, have you ever seen so much pink in one place?"

Tyson chuckled as he and Hilary took the seats on either side of Max. "Yeah, but she was a mean blader wasn't she?"

Max nodded, "One of the best. Do you remember when she challenged Kai? I swear I saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes."

Tyson snorted, "Emotion in Mr. Ice cube!? You must have been hallucinating." The boy then got up from his seat and took a few steps forward and turned to face Max and Hilary. He tried to puff out his jacket but failed and instead took imperious stance. Arms crossed and straight-backed, he narrowed his eyes at the two in front of him, and then stuck his nose into the air. "I…am Kai." He stated forcefully, attempting to imitate a deep voice. "I am a thick block of ice and I am better then all of you. How dare you, little pink speck, _dare_ to even _look_ at the great and all-powerful Kai?" Tyson uncrossed his arms and winked at Max, who was laughing, "great Kai impression huh?"

"Hey, wait a second," interrupted Hilary, who was confused with all the new names. "I don't know this Kai, who is he? He doesn't go to school with us." Something about how Tyson described him made him intriguing. After all, anyone Tyson disliked couldn't be that bad, right? At least he must have a brain, she reasoned.

Max's expression reflected his shock as he stared at her. "You don't know who Kai is? Kai Hiwatari? He's like THE most famous blader…" Tyson glared at Max and the blonde gulped, "after Tyson of course." Hilary snorted, but Max paused when he noticed Tyson pointing at his own head while shaking it to and fro (quickly stopping whenever Hilary glanced his way though). He didn't quite manage to avoid the slap to the head she gave him behind Max though and soon stopped in favor of rubbing his ear fussily.

"Oh, that's right," Max nodded in understanding. "You never knew what Beyblading was, so naturally you wouldn't know… actually, Kai was the captain of the Bladebreakers."

Hilary opened her mouth to ask another question but Tyson interjected: "the captain who BETRAYED us." He muttered hotly.

Hilary heard this and opened her mouth to ask yet another question, but Max, wanting to divert the conversation from possible conflict, quickly changed the topic. "Hey Ty," he started, "you know, we've been talking a lot about Kai, but what about Rei? I mean, he was a pretty awesome blader too, he had all those crazy fan girls who kept chasing us down the streets in China, remember?"

Tyson grinned widely. "Oh yeah, I remember, they got one of his hair wraps remember? They nearly yanked his head off! Oh wait, you didn't see that did you?" He put a finger to his lips and frowned as he remembered. "You know when we went up that mountain, me and him I mean. I carried him the whole way—what!? He couldn't walk Hilary!" He yelled at her disapprobatory glare.

"Anyway, at one point, this group of girls saw us and yelled 'OH LOOK! IT'S REI! REI! IT'S REI!'" Tyson flapped his arms widely in imitation. "'MARRY ME REI!' They chased us all over the place, then, one caught his hair wrap. It was close but he managed to get it off. Luckily, we had a few leftover bandages… from bandaging his ANKEL, which was HURT." Here he glared back at Hilary who huffed and looked away. "And," he continued, frowning once more. "We arrived right on time, after you finished stalling for us."

Max was going to point out that Kai had helped, then—remembering how Tyson had reacted the last time he had defended Kai—thought better of it.

"Good ole' Rei; always coming through in the end. Haven't seen or heard from him in a year though. I wonder how he's been?" Tyson asked rhetorically.

Hilary was growing tired of the two boys talking about people she didn't know and heaved a heavy sigh. "Hey Tyson, why don't you talk about something else? You'll have plenty of time to catch up later. How about we do some math? The sooner you learn, the sooner we end these sessions."

Tyson 'ew'ed and winced. He flopped down in his seat next to Max and turned his head to glance at Hilary who was on the other side of his best friend. "Look, Hil, Ms. H gave me the day off, so just chill, ok? You'll have plenty of time to kill me LATER."

"Hmph," Hilary slouched in the plastic chair and crossed her arms over her downy jacket. "Fine, whatever," she grumbled.

Tyson's eyes then shot to Hilary suspiciously and he leaned over Max to look her in the eye. Max recognizing the look as the same one he had every time someone tried to sneak food by him, groaned quietly and slid down into his seat silently. "You know," Tyson said and Hilary leaned back as he got uncomfortably close to her nose. "I do want to know something."

"What?!" She snapped

"Why were you—" and he poked her in the nose, somehow managing not to fall on Max, "so eager to tutor me anyway? As far as I know, we both hate each other… unless you DO like me!" He backed away, ignoring Max's sigh of relief to look at himself admiringly, brushing his shoulders off, then shinning his nails on the front of his jacket.

Hilary looked alarmed at the suggestion and quickly shook her head. "NO! No, it's not that… _definitely_ not that." She shuddered slightly; "Actually…" she broke off awkwardly and fidgeted a little.

"What? What?" Tyson prompted, bouncing up and down impatiently. Even Max looked at her in question.

Hilary looked away, "… It's for… extra credit."

"But you have an A+ average in everything!" Tyson cried appalled at the thought of extra work for no reason. "What could YOU possibly need extra credit for?"

Hilary hesitated, and then took a deep breath. "I—"

"—Actually the way I've heard it is that Hilary is, in fact pulling a high B, maybe B plus, in advanced mathematics. Her teacher, a certain _Higurashi_-_dono_" _Madam Higurashi _"—I believe you are familiar with her, Tyson—is however, willing to give Ms. Tatibana here an A if she could accomplish the rather difficult agenda of procuring a twin mark in her pupil's next exam; of the teacher's fashioning, naturally."

Tyson turned around to see who had spoken and Max and Hilary poked their heads around him to see. Hilary glaring cantankerously at the boy who had just announced her carefully guarded secret. Said boy flinched from the intensity of the look.

When Max saw who it was though, he let out a whoop and ran over. "Chief! And Mr. D! Am I ever glad to see you!" He grabbed their hands and shook them heartily. "Please, you've got to save me from these two. They're driving me crazy!"

Mr. Dickenson chuckled. "My, my, it can't possibly be as bad as you imagine my boy. I'm sure-" He looked over at Tyson and Hilary and raised an eyebrow. "Oh my," he finished.

Tyson had looked at Hilary mischievously after what Kenny said and it had only taken a few seconds for the inevitable to happen: Tyson grinned evilly and then called out, one hand cupping his mouth to amplify his voice; "Hey! Everyone! Hilary got a B, Hilary got a B! Hey, everyone, guess what, Hilary got a B!" He attracted quite a few glances.

Hilary, glaring murder, leapt at Tyson furiously, "Ah! Will you stop that?!" She grabbed his hand and pulled it down.

Tyson grinned at her then began to sing, "Hilary got a-a B-ee-ee, Hil-ary got a B-ee—"

Hilary grabbed his collar and shook him sharply. "Argh! STOP it already!"

"Mr. Granger, Ms. Tatibana…! Please, stop…" Mr. Dickenson's timid voice and mild manner was completely ineffective on the bickering teens.

Kenny cringingly approached the two but before he could say anything a voice rang out from the laptop clutched in his hands:

"GUYS! QUIET!" Tyson and Hilary immediately froze and Mr. Dickenson sighed in relief.

"Thank you Dizzara," he addressed the laptop, and Kenny blushed as he checked the laptop that was supposed to have been off. "As for you two children," Dickenson continued. "Honestly, what would your parents think?"

"But Mr. D," shrugged Tyson. "Our parents aren't here."

"On the contrary my boy," and Mr. Dickenson gestured behind himself, and Mr. Tate calmly stepped through the door.

"Dad!" cried Max. The blond boy ran over to his father but as he neared him he noticed the large duffel bag his father was carrying, not unlike Max himself; "…Dad? What are you doing here?"

Mr. Tate laughed. "I'm coming with you! Two guardians per team: that was the deal."

"Really, since when?" Max asked, baffled as he looked between his father and Mr. Dickenson.

"Well," answered Mr. Dickenson. "The board had a meeting recently. One of the topics brought to the table involved child endangerment. It seems as though the counsel has been receiving quite a bit of pressure from concerned parents and guardians. Moreover, possible lawsuits and withdrawals of funding have become an issue. In accordance to the growing concern, the IBBA has decided to implement a few new rules. The accompaniment involving dual guardianship is a direct resultant of these novel formalities. It may appear as a costly hindrance, but it's something we must abide by."

Mr. Tate raised an eyebrow at the older man. "It's more than just a formality; it's more of a necessity, isn't it? I actually think it's a good idea. I mean, it isn't exactly smart to have our kids running around in new countries without _any_ proper guardianship. We need to make sure our kids don't get into any trouble. Anything can happen in these foreign countries!"

For a second, Mr. Dickenson looked flustered, then quickly straightened his look. "Yes, well, as things are, each team will be accompanied by two adults. Your second guardian," he addressed Tyson, Max, Kenny and Hilary now, "should be arriving here soon. It appears as though he's running a bit late this morning though."

"But Mr. Dickenson, why aren't you counting yourself?" Hilary questioned, her being the only one of the kids, excluding Kenny, who had followed Mr. Dickenson's long winded speech. Her interest in her own accommodations and adult company allowed her to ignore her shyness in the presence of the unfamiliar older man.

Mr. Dickenson laughed. "Oh, my dear girl, I'm much too busy to be in charge or every little thing the team does. Besides, I believe the boys, and yourself too miss, to be quite capable of taking care of yourselves." He smiled and turned away, ignoring Mr. Tate's disapproving look at his last statement.

"But you did it last year?" From Kenny, the question sounded more like a statement.

"Oh no, no! You didn't know? That wasn't me, that was—"

"Sorry I'm late dudes, had a tough time leaving the crib." Came an all too familiar voice from the door.

"Oh no," moaned Tyson. "It couldn't be…"

Bursting over the threshold bounced an old man with a Hawaii style neon pink, orange and yellow flowered T-shirt with beige cargo shorts to match. The man wore dark sunglasses to cover his eyes and his pepper hair was styled back flat, and from his chin grew a long smooth beard. In his hands he carried two heavy duffels, and behind him he lugged two heavy suitcases, all filled to bursting. Tyson's Grandfather: Ryuunosuke Granger, 'Grandpa Ryu', had entered the building.

"I had to do some last minute packin' and a couple of my homies here will hafta carry my bags through… Ah well, hello! Dudes! And… Dudette!" The man added excitedly when he saw Hilary.

"It is…" Tyson lamented once more and now looked thoroughly depressed. "I thought he'd stay in his room… at least long enough to miss the plane!"

Max leaned towards Tyson, "I thought you were going to lock him in?" He whispered.

"I _did_."

Then, interrupting the two boys came the sound of the public announce system above them: "Attention all passengers on flight 1440 courtesy of the International Beyblade Association, we are pleased to inform you that your flight has arrived and we will begin boarding in about five minutes."

"Wow, 5 minutes? That's good." Kenny grinned excitedly.

Hilary didn't look too sure though, and frowned slightly, "how can that be right though?" She looked at Mr. Dickenson, "don't they have to refuel the plane or something?"

Mr. Dickenson shrugged and Kenny was the one who replied: "Normally yes, refueling the plane would have delayed passenger boarding by possibly 15 minutes to half an hour. Naturally though, with the new advances in technology more effective mechanisms have been designed to significantly hasten the process. In fact it is quite intriguing how in regular airplanes, the fuel tanks normally reside in the wings, such planes are refueled from the bottom. The hose containing the gas is shoved upward into a valve at the lowest point of the fuel tank the fuel is pumped into the fuel tank, from below. Now, the next question would be, why would it be easier to push the gas upwards? Wouldn't it just be much more simple to pour the fuel downwards? Of course not! Pressure is what we're working against here, pouring the fuel in at the top would require lifting a column that is higher than the top of the wing, which would take more energy! This was the thought process that the engineers pondered as they tried to develop a different pumping system that would bypass the problem. But considering the ramifications of developing a new…"

A hand closed on Hilary's arm and quietly guided her away from Kenny's increasingly passionate monologue, the girl being too stunned to manage it on her own.

"Hilary…Hilary!"

The brunette's head snapped around and she blinked profusely as her eyes focused on the grinning figure of Max next to her.

"Hi," He said rather jovially waving a hand lightly, "welcome back to the land of the normal people! How was your trip to nerd-land?"

Hilary laughed disconcertedly and rubbed the back of her neck as she blushed slightly. "Heh heh, …_ano_…_umm…_ sorry about that… he's just a little…wow, does he always do that?" She asked the boy, slightly alarmed

Max shrugged, then nodded. "Yeah, guess it really depends on what you say… We kinda learned to tune him out after awhile."

Hilary looked back and noticed, somewhat guiltily that without her, Mr. Dickenson had been left to bear the rest of Kenny's lecture, and he was looking furtively around for a means of escape. Luckily, before the small boy got much further, he was interrupted by the woman on the announcement system, who stated that boarding had now begun. Mr. Dickenson looked unashamedly relieved as he walked over to the group.

"Alright then, if there are no more last minute problems, I suggest we start boarding. I'm very much impressed the plane got here so quickly, I heard it had only left Hong Kong barely over an hour ago."

Tyson, Max and Kenny all did a double take as they stared at Mr. Dickenson then exchanged meaningful glances with each other. "Did you say Hong KONG?" They all demanded simultaneously.

Hilary and Mr. Tate merely shrugged at each other, not understanding the significance, while Mr. Granger leaned back leisurely with a grin.

"That means," started Max.

"—that on that plane," continued Kenny,

"—is REI!" finished Tyson jumping up and down. "Rei's on that plane right now, isn't he Mr. D? Well what are we waiting for? Let's go!" He cried, running towards the door of the gate.

"Tyson's right boys –and girls- we should be going."

"But Mr. D…" interrupted Max, looking backwards as everyone started moving. "Shouldn't we wait for Kai? I mean, he is coming, isn't he?"

Tyson poked his head around the door. "Yeah," he agreed. "HE may never realize it, but he IS a part of the team." He paused to look at Max. "I'll admit that, and besides, not even old Mr. Sour-Puss can refuse the chance to have a rematch with _me_." He ended proudly, pounding a fist on his chest.

Mr. Dickenson suddenly looked very agitated as he straightened his suit and tugged at his tie. "Hmm, well…about that—" he started.

"Oh, yeah" interrupted Tyson's grandfather. "That Kai-dude: the grumpy bloke with red eyes and more bark than a pack of rabid wolves. I remember him; haven't seen hide nor hair of him for …'bout's a year's worth now. What's he been up ta?"

Max though for a second, then realized something "Tyson," he turned to face his friend. "Your grampa's right."

"About what?" Tyson whined impatiently hopping on one foot then the other, anxious to get on the plane.

"I never thought about it before," Max continued, ignoring Tyson's reply, or lack thereof. "Did you notice, Chief?"

Kenny shook his head. "I'm not surprised though," The bespectacled boy added. "Kai never was one to make his presence particularly noticeable."

Tyson, quickly tiring of this apparently cryptic talk, fumed and puffed out his cheeks. "WHAT are you TALKING about?" He asked loudly.

Max turned to face Tyson. "Ty…" He wondered how to ask, and then ploughed on. "Have you seen Kai, at all, since… well… even since we came back from the World Championships last year?"

Tyson stopped his fidgeting, perceiving his friend's seriousness, and thought for a second as he placed both hands behind his head. "Umm, I remember him saying something about going back on a later flight; something about not wanting to ride with us. After that… sure I've seen him…"

"_Where_?" prodded Max.

"Uh, at-at…" Realization dawned on Tyson finally. "Actually, I _haven't_ seen him. Wow, that _is_ weird. What's up with him? Is he so ashamed he lost to me –and Spencer- that's he's too scared to show his face around here or wha?"

Kenny shook his head adjusted his glasses and shifted Dizzy so that he was under his other arm, all with the practiced ease of a techno connoisseur, then moved to give his input: "That couldn't be it, Tyson," he said. "In spite of his final match and indeed a few others, Kai is still ranked as the world's second best; directly after you. In fact, if the ratio of wins and losses were worked out using an algorithm based off only a slightly different integration system…" Everyone else tuned him out collectively as he began muttering on an entirely off-topic rat hole, but Tyson's interest was piqued and he interrupted Kenny mid-ramble:

"Second? How can that be? Who's third? What about Tala? And Rei and Max?"

Kenny looked slightly annoyed at being interrupted, but quickly recovered, "Third, fourth and fifth. Respectively. If I remember correctly."

"Anyway, that is all well and good, but this conversation can be continued on the plane." Mr. Tate suddenly interrupted, wary of the passing time. "Mr. Dickenson. If you would please locate this boy so that we may be on our way?"

Everyone turned towards the older man, and it wasn't until then that they all realized how awkward he looked as he fiddled constantly with his stick. "Uh, well, er," he stuttered reprehensibly and looked away.

"What's wrong Mr. D?" Tyson asked curiously.

The elder man sighed ruefully. "I'm afraid that Kai, will not be joining us."

"WHAT?!" Cried Tyson and Max, Kenny looking on with a raised eyebrow. "Why?!"

"Ah well, it's a complicated story." Mr. Dickenson hesitated. "I think we should board the aeroplane. I will relate the story once we have met up with young Mr. Kon. It…isn't exactly a story that should be told twice."

So in awkward silence, they all boarded the plane: One nervous old man, three speechless boys, one confused girl, one suspicious adult and one last old man sporting a flowery Hawaiian T-shirt in the middle of winter while humming 'Row, Row, Row your Boat.'

Well, maybe they didn't go _completely_ in silence.

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'**;**.**;**' _On the Plane…_

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Rei sat near one of the windows looking out at the Japanese airport.

'_Wow,'_ he smirked. '_It's been awhile hasn't it?'_

He looked towards the in-built touch screen on the back of the seat in front of him and sighed when he noticed the time. He had landed nearly 20 minutes ago.

'_Where are they?'_

He absently fingered the white bandages on his arms and noted to himself that his style of clothing really hadn't changed much over the past year. A long wrap around white shirt with an embroidered stiff collar and long triangular cut sleeves fit snugly to the black undershirt as it was held by a wide red belt at his waist. Below the belt the traditional white shirt split to allow more movement. Baggy black pants, and the ever-present white hair wrap completed the look. Rei surmised that the only real differences were that his hair now reached the back of his knees and instead of the yin-yang, Rei now bore the image of an embroidered silver and black tiger raging across his chest and mid back. The tail even continued to the split ends of his shirt.

Rei smiled then to himself and brought a hand up to tug at his heavy bangs.

"And then there's always that." He muttered to himself.

The object under scrutiny was actually a rather noticeable strip of his bang which was oddly white. The boy rolled his eyes and let the hair fall. The lesson learned that day had been not to leave Mariah and Lee together near the bleach. Rei shook his head, exasperated even now, so long after the event. It had been practically a year ago and the color had not returned to his hair, it was somewhat annoying at the very least. Honestly, if those two weren't siblings he would have assumed they were an old married couple.

Abruptly, the door to the plane slid open with a clunk and Rei rose to his feet expectantly. The first to enter was Mr. Dickenson.

"Hello again Mr. D," Rei greeted and bowed smoothly at the waist.

The man laughed at the strange clash of formalities, the informal greeting coupled with the formal bow, and mentally noted that Rei hadn't changed. "It's good to see you again m'boy."

Next to come in were Tyson and Max. They tried to enter together but ended up getting stuck in the door. Rei grinned and his eyes glistened with hidden mischief. Reaching out, he grabbed Tyson and tugged, intending to make both boys fall in to a heap. What he didn't expect was for Tyson to latch onto him, and as Max fell the blond boy took down all three of them at once, with Rei on the bottom.

"Um…ow?" Came Rei's muffled voice from under Tyson and Max who both laughed.

"Ok, seriously, guys," with impressive strength Rei managed to shove both boys off, and as he stood up, brushing off imaginary dust, he raised an eyebrow. "Honestly, it looks like both of you have been eating healthy. Really now, just because we're the Blade_breakers_, doesn't mean you can break-" Rei broke off with a disapproving sigh but couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as the two younger boys continued to laugh on the ground. He had missed them…

A few seconds later and Max was able to stumble to his feet, Tyson slowly following. As they got up they all exchanged proper greetings ('Dude, s'up with the new look?' 'Mariah and bleach. Don't ask.'), and then Rei was surprised to notice a few people he didn't recognize entering the plane.

"Rei," said Max pulling away. "Meet my Dad. Dad, this is Rei"

Rei bowed again, "Hello Mr. Tate." He said respectfully.

Mr. Tate laughed. He liked this boy, how old had Max said he was? 14? "It's okay Rei, we can just shake" and the two shook hands.

"And continued Max, gesturing behind himself, "this is-"

"Hi, Mr. Granger. Good to see you again."

"Hey, Rei-mah-man!" The two greeted each other with a high five.

Max looked sheepish, "Oh yeah, you've already met."

Rei then noticed a final figure slowly inching around Mr. Granger. "And who would you be?" He asked her politely.

"Oh!" Hilary looked up, surprised that he had noticed her. She smiled, "I'm Hilary," she said after only a small pause.

"Pleasure," he said charmingly, accompanied by a short bow. When their eyes met Hilary was surprised to see his light amber irises. She wondered briefly if they were contacts.

"Ah, well, I'm Tyson's tutor," she said deciding to properly introduce herself.

"Oh? _Really?_" Rei turned slightly and gave an evil grin; Hilary got another shock as she noticed the cat-like canine teeth the boy seemed to posses.

"So, you're Tyson's _tutor_? Now, why would Tyson need a TUTOR?"

Tyson, sensing the impending disaster, quickly changed the topic: "So how are things going in Hong Kong?"

Rei, successfully thrown off, looked surprised for a second. "What do you—"

"You asked her out yet?"

'_Her?'_ was Hilary's silent thought, not being able to help but notice.

Rei looked confused, then realized what Tyson meant, "Oh, well…" he trailed off.

"Yeah! You so did! Go Rei, you're the man!" Tyson rejoiced, Rei looked like he was going to say something, and then thought better of it.

"Who's 'she'?" Hilary asked.

Everyone settled down and Kenny was left more or less unnoticed, with only a brief 'Hey, Chief' in his direction as he entered the plan. Once everyone was seated, and the plane had taken off, Rei came to a sudden realization as his head jolted around to look up and down the plane. He noticed someone was missing.

"Hey guys?" he asked, catching everyone's attention. "Where's Kai? I though he lived in Japan too?"

Everyone's eyes turned to Mr. Dickenson and he sighed regretfully. "I suppose that I've been putting it off long enough." He hesitated, "I would much appreciate it if everyone could please be quiet while I'm talking, this is very important." The comment was unnecessary, since the plane was utterly silent, but everyone nodded in agreement. Even Dizzy, who Kenny had opened and placed on his fall-out table, agreed.

"Is Kai ok?" Rei asked, worry was clearly evident on his features. Perhaps Kai had been distant, perhaps a little cold, but he and Rei had reached a point where they were comfortable around each other, something Rei had not felt since he had left his tribe all those years ago. He had regretted falling out of contact with the older boy, but he had been on the boat to China before he had suddenly realized that he had received no mailing address from Kai. You never knew what you had until it was gone and Rei had missed the silent strength that was Kai brooding in a corner.

"The truth is Rei, I don't know. You see, Kai never, actually, left Russia."

Shocked expressions met him all around and a soft '_What?'_ escaped Rei's mouth. Mr. Dickenson rubbed the bridge of his nose, already fearing their reactions to what he had to say. Nonetheless he continued:

"The details are complicated, but the main reason comes down to this: During the World Championships, the WBBA used up so much money on reparations and… vindication (especially for the Bladebreakers and Demolition Boys' final matches) that at the end of it all, there wasn't enough money to get everyone home. Every parent or guardian of every competitor was asked to make a small contribution to get their child safely home. If you don't believe me, ask Mr. Tate or Mr. Granger."

"Is it true? Dad?" asked Max. His father nodded. Similarly when Tyson asked his grandfather, he agreed.

"How much?" Max pressed.

"Nothing we couldn't handle Max, around 400-500 dollars US, give or take."

Max's eyes widened, "that much? Why didn't you tell me?" Tyson looked toward his Grandfather, similarly confused.

His father looked at him, "We thought you children had had enough to worry about."

"Doncha worry 'bout the money, kido!" Ryu Granger added, ruffling Tyson's hair. Rei watched this with an impassive look on his face, not saying anything.

"The money was merely a voluntary donation." Mr. Dickenson said soothingly. "There was no need to involve you children."

"You mean you didn't want anyone to know you messed up." Muttered Dizzy.

Rei frowned, ignoring the computer's words and stored the possibility away. There was a more important matter to discuss here. "What does that have to do with Kai?" He demanded.

"Ah well, if you remember, Kai's only living relative happens to be his grandfather, Voltaire."

"Voltaire," growled Tyson. "That bas—"

Mr. Granger stuffed a Kendo stick into his grandson's mouth, muffling the last part. Removing it he then carefully folded it and placed it back in his bag.

"Collapsible." He stated simply to the alarmed glances he got.

"So, what happened?" Prompted Rei, one of the only ones not visibly affected by Mr. Granger.

Once again, Mr. Dickenson sighed. "Simply put, the elder Hiwatari refused to pay for Kai's trip back home." A few gasps were heard and then all was silent.

"You mean Voltaire _abandoned_ Kai in Russia?" Rei said slowly, his voice unnaturally tight.

Max was more vocal, his shock evident: "How could he do that? Voltaire's Kai's grandfather; I know Kai doesn't really like him but… how could he do that to his own grandson?" Max just couldn't understand.

Tyson looked at his own grandfather and, as though sensing his feelings, Mr. Granger squeezed Tyson's shoulder. "Don't worry, Tyson, I would never do something like that." Looking at Mr. Dickenson, Grandpa Ryu asked: "So what happened to the little dude, D? Has he been found?"

"And also," interjected Kenny with a logical note to his voice. "Why is it that no one else paid for the trip? In fact, Mr. Hiwatari is a world renowned billionaire, for him to refuse to pay 400 dollars worth of money for his own grandson…would raise quite a few eyebrows. Why didn't we know about this earlier?"

"Well Kenny, no one paid for the trip because, quite simply, no one knew. No complaints we filed, no missing child reports. Kai had proved himself quite responsible so no one checked up on him. We assumed that we would be the ones contacted if there were any problems, not that we would have to do the searching. When we finally realized that Kai had not been sighted or on record since the Championships, it was too late, he had all but disappeared."

"Why didn't he tell us the truth?" Tyson cried indignantly.

"Tyson! Use your head!" Snapped Rei; uncharacteristically sharp. "This is _Kai_ we're talking about. He is the _apotheosis_ of pride. He wouldn't ask someone the _time_ let alone 500 dollars."

Tyson 'hmphed' but looked away. He knew Rei was right. Max slumped in his seat, speechless and his dad looked sympathetically downwards at his son. Putting an arm around Max, his father pulled him into a loose hug.

Remembering Kai from the one time he saw him, Mr. Tate had seen the boy as quiet, introverted and more or less antisocial. He had thought the boy to be a simple miscreant, well on his way to either his own destruction or juvenile court. Mr. Dickenson had vouched for the youth's character, but even then, Mr. Tate hadn't wanted his son anywhere near the boy, a feeling which only became more concrete when he learned about the boy's perfidy.

He hadn't trusted Max's good opinion of Kai, but now, looking at the family the boy had, Mr. Tate could only think that perhaps the boy had a reason for the way he acted. It did not excuse behavior, but such bad guardianship could explain why Kai had fallen into the wrong crowd, with a grandfather like that… Max had even said that Kai had once lived on the streets…wait a minute…

"Stanley?" Mr. Tate asked, addressing Mr. Dickenson by his first name. The chairman raised his head,

"Yes, my boy?"

Mr. Tate raised an eyebrow at the diminutive but ignored it for the most part and continued, "Max once told me that Kai used to live on the streets, if his father is a billionaire, then why would he have lived like a homeless thug?"

Mr. Dickenson shook his head, "I'm afraid that's a question only Kai or Voltaire could answer. Now, as to why we don't just ship the poor boy out right now… well let's say the child is very resourceful. Since that moment in the airport a year ago, Kai left and has completely disappeared from the world's eye. He cannot be found anywhere. It is almost as though he is hiding from someone…"

"Like Boris?" Asked Rei bitterly. Mr. Dickenson shrugged and answered softly:

"It's better than the alternative."

"Who's Boris?" Hilary suddenly piped up and Mr. Tate, about to ask the same question, just nodded, glad someone else asked so he didn't look too curious.

"Long story" said Tyson dismissively.

"To make it short," added Kenny, not so much in consideration of Hilary's growing ire as jumping at the chance to explain something. "He's an evil man who wants to take over the world and tried to influence Kai by using power to lure him onto the enemy's team."

"And it worked too," Tyson scowled angrily. "Hey Mr. D, how do we know Kai didn't want to stay in Russia?"

"Tyson!" Max exclaimed, aghast.

The elder man's eyes narrowed in disapprobation at Tyson's words. "Mr. Granger," he addressed Tyson seriously, who flinched as he realized he had said something wrong. "It is insulting to make such comments on such a grave topic. If you want proof however: I recently questioned Voltaire Hiwatari on the subject of his grandson and he said to me, and I quote: 'Of all the ludicrous statements I have heard thus far, Stanley you have just conquered them all. Why on earth would I pay even a cent to a filthy little cretin who not only sinned when he was brought into this world, but deserves to be punished by rotting on the streets like a dog? Mongrels like that are not worth the dirt on my shoes.' After which he quickly terminated the questioning and left to enjoy a pint of imported vodka. Unfortunately, I did not get it on tape. It might have been enough to finally incriminate the man."

Tyson was abashed.

"Are you satisfied?" Max asked, but without any real venom, too shocked by Mr. Dickenson's words.

"I, I'm sorry" was the remorseful reply.

"Max is not the one you should be saying sorry to." Rei's voice was quiet, but everyone heard it with painful accuracy.

"Mr. D?" Dizzy's inappropriately loud, apathetic digital voice cut the tension in the air like a knife and everyone turned to look at Kenny, who folded into himself embarrassedly. "Do you know where Kai is now?"

"I'm afraid not" the chairman answered looking out the window. "The BBA has taken certain steps… now we are just crossing our fingers."

"You're hoping he'll come to the reunion." Rei stated matter-of-factly.

"Yes indeed, we realize a few of our…precautions may cause problems to arise, but they will have to be dealt as they present themselves."

No one really understood what Mr. Dickenson was talking about, but it was possible that he never intended for them to get it. A few minutes passed in silence then Mr. Dickenson felt the need to speak.

"I'm sorry." No one had anything to say to this, and the elder man kept talking. "I should have informed you boys the minute I found out Kai was missing. But you must understand that it really hasn't been all that long. At the most, we only noticed something was wrong a month ago, and even that was under unusual circumstances. There were no 'missing' notices. Kai comes and goes as he pleases with no one the wiser, even you boys must have thought he was just being himself. Did you even notice he was missing?"

The silence was all consuming; even the plane's engine was muted in that moment as the boys were lost in their guilty thoughts.

Hilary knew that sulking was not the way to be acting at this time. So this Kai person was missing? At least they knew he was in Russia. So all they had to do was look for him, he sounded like he could take care of himself so Hilary didn't really see what the issue was. Besides, if she didn't break this silence, who would? If it lasted it would be a very, very long 10 hour flight. Despite her feelings it still took her a while to muster the courage to break the heavy silence. It could have lasted ten minutes, it could have easily lasted half an hour, but finally she managed to say something:

"Look, we can't just sulk around here, so Kai's in Russia? We'll track him down! He's probably fine, how old is he anyway? Old enough to take care of himself, I'll bet."

Mr. Dickenson looked at her and Hilary was slightly unnerved at the sad smile he wore. She wondered for a second if she should have just stayed silent.

"How old is he?" Dickenson repeated, as though asking himself. "Maybe 15, now? The legal age in Russia is 21, Kai would have been lucky to have even found a job."

Hilary faltered and fell silent.

It was at that moment when she realized the real question had not been if they would find Kai. It had been if they would find him _alive_.

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**_End Chapter five_…**

**… _To Be Continued_**

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Reviewer time! YAY so many reviews! This is the most I've had for any chapter yet!

**kavbj: **Yay! Super long review! I can honestly say that I did not like Tyson at ALL when I was watching the series. Only when I began writing this story did I finally begin to appreciate him. He has a few strong points: his stubbornness for one, and his ability to simplify things (a nice comparison to Kai, who over analyzes everything… honestly it's almost a relief to write about these guys, the grammar is not as difficult, I can lapse into third person and past tense, and I'm free to contract my 'I am's and 'it is's without worrying about the emotional state of the characters! I'm glad you like the Huo family, and NO!! I will never add an OC close in age to Kai. They are a family of 4, two children; age 5, and two adults; in their 30's. We'll have to wait and see how they play out in the story!

**Keylor:** Oh my goodness! You reviewed every chapter!! I'm so happy! And you included useful critique! Certainly I will read your story, I will try to give you helpful advice as best as I can. Since you spent the effort to respond to each chapter, allow me to respond to each review:

First, I'm glad this story caught your eye, I always preferred the first season (I thought Kai looked a little too girlish in the second season and I didn't see the entire third season).

Max's father is a shop owner?? I didn't know that! I must have missed that episode… I only saw him in that apron and hat and assumed he was a chef. You're the first one to actually notice that mistake. I hope you don't mind if I keep him as a chef/part time author I don't really want to go back and rewrite that! I can understand you thinking Tyson is a bit bratty, but I always pictured him as one in the first season (he changed a little by the third). Besides, I pegged him as 13, he is a bit young. Maybe, just maybe, the course of the story can help him mature? Oh and Max is your favorite character? Well, I'll try to include him more—though Kai will still be the main character.

I'm glad you like the introspection in the second chapter. I had to write Kai in first person because of the name issue (should I call him Kai? Kolya?) and I also wanted to give everyone an idea of what's really going on in his head. Kai says almost nothing in the entire series, so there must be SOMETHING going on in his head. I was aiming for deep, I'm glad I managed to convey it!

Chapter 3 had its own purposes. Originally it was part of this chapter (looks up) but when I realized that it threw the page numbers into the thirties I had to break it down. Hilary will play her own part. Not a huge one, mind, but she will make appearances and add a more emotional and objective outlook on the story (Rei, Max and Tyson are somewhat biased and Mr. Tate is an adult).

I'm glad you don't mind the Huo family. They probably won't be major but… no I won't say (evil grin). For a couple of years I've read Beyblade fics, and I've always wanted more interaction, more thinking. The goal of my story is to write a Kai story with realistic emotions and responses and still keep the drama. It may take longer, but there isn't really anything wrong with that is there?

Wow, that was a long response! But it's only fair, a response to every review! Thanks, and I hope I can keep this story up to your standards.

**phoenix-falling: **Hey, thanks for reviewing! I'm really, really glad you like my story. Kai chapters are so unbelievably hard to write (but fun!). Whenever I'm writing, I have to keep stopping myself from saying 'Kai' or writing in the past tense… and he uses too many long words! I was a bit worried about whether you guys would like the Huo's or be put off by the knife scene… But I'm glad you liked it!

**HiyaPriya:** Hello, hello! Yay, a new reviewer! And number 20! I'm glad you like my story and to answer your question, no, I'm not from India/Pakistan. I'm a born and bred Canadian, however, my parents are from Africa and we have our own fair share of Indian movies at home (like Sholay and Sooryavansham, for example!). How about you? I noticed your penname, are you from India?

**Jegnifer:** Yay, another new reviewer! I know exactly what you mean about the Kai-getting-taken-in-by-a-family stories. Whenever I read Beyblade fics, the issues I usually have are that Kai isn't strong enough, or there is a Mary-Sue, or there isn't enough depth in the story. I wanted to make a story with a strong (but sensitive!) in-character Kai, while making it realistic (with everyone else, Tyson, Max and Rei, having their own problems as well). It'll probably make the story really long but as long as you guys don't mind the pace, I'll probably keep going as I am. Thanks for reviewing, and I hope you keep reading!

**banan: **Hi again! And a super long review, yay! I'm glad you're still reading my story, and as for responding to reviews, I can honestly say that I enjoy responding to your reviews, and you guys' reviews mean a lot to me. I know exactly what you mean by blabbering, by the way, why do you think my chapters keep ending up so long?! I keep telling my muse to 'cut it short' or 'hurry it up' but noooo, think she likes to prolong the agony (that, and she's smug about Kai taking it out on me, not her…). Don't worry about babbling though, the longer your review, the happier I am! Oh, and you're polish? That's really interesting, I myself confess to being born in Canada, but my parents are from Africa… Anyway, about chapter 4, I agree, I don't like Tyson… then why am I writing about him, you ask? Well… he helps round out the story… and maybe I could grow to like him…

…nah. I'm glad you found it funny though (and maybe this chapter too? Sorry there was no Kai, but there was a lot of talking _about_ Kai. Which, by the way, is going to be very important in this story, we're gonna see a lot of what others think about Kai, as a devoted fangirl myself I enjoy finding out what everyone's thinking about our favorite blader, I thoroughly agree with you on that point).

Interestingly enough, I never thought about Kai being an abbreviation…hmm, maybe it's because, like I said in the prologue, it was a name his Grandfather gave him, while they were living in Japan… or maybe there's another reason?...Hmmm,… I don't think I should say any more… (evil grin). But as for calling him Kolya, that will only last for as long as he's with the Huo's, it's one of the reasons I decided to write him is first person, actually, 'cause I didn't want to call him 'Kolya' and calling him 'Kai' is weird when he isn't really thinking of himself _as_ Kai. Oh and speaking of the Huo's, I'm glad you like them. And I always picture Kai as the kind of guy who would never just freeload… you know, live off someone else without paying them back, and I just mentally pictures him waiting on tables and it was too much fun! I had to do it!

I admit I was worried what you guys would think about the cutting. I never wanted Kai to appear as weak, or suicidal (which is how most cutting scenes I've read turn out, and how most people picture cutting: as a cry for attention). Kai does not want attention, what he wants is to be strong and emotionless, anything less than perfection is unacceptable. I'm relieved that you liked it though, and the psychoanalyzing too, I totally didn't even mean for any of that to come out, it wrote itself, really! (darn my babbling rent-a-muse). Anyway, look at that! I totally wrote a way-too-long-response, but oh well, it's only fair, after you wrote such a long review, and I hope you keep reading (and reviewing, really you don't have to make them any shorter, by all means, babble away :)

**Thanks guys! **Sorry if the responses were a bit long, but I reserve the right to respond to my reviewers in any length, you guys deserve it!

**Adio!**


	7. 2 Plus 2 is Always 4

It has arrived: **Chapter 6**

Alright, now I know you guys are probably expecting a Kai chapter… well, the chain's broken; it's another Tyson, Max, Rei and Kenny chapter. YES, The sky has indeed fallen (ponders for a second…I'm probably going to have to apologize to Chicken Little now, I was quite the horrid critic to the poor little guy when I was small… anyway…right… I'll stop now…)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Beyblade or any related character. All OC's are mine; please do not use them without my permission. Thank you.

Reviewer comments are at the end.

Enjoy

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

_After the world championships in Russia, Kai just wanted to vanish. Then one day, inevitably, Kai is drawn back and ensnared in an intricate web of magic and legends; wrought by forsaken history and controlled by none other than Voltaire. _

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"_Be careful about reading health books. You may die of a misprint."_

-Mark Twain (1835-1910)

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**Chapter 6: _2 Plus 2 is Always 4_**

Despite the heavy air in which the flight had started, the small group of Beybladers was hard pressed to stay solemn for long and soon found themselves engaged in lighthearted conversation. It had been Hilary who first broke the silence by turning towards Rei, her curiosity clear in her voice and obviously strong enough to make her break the tension:

"What's up with your teeth anyway? They're freaking me out!"

Rei, who had been running his tongue thoughtfully over his elongated canines quickly stopped, and Tyson and Max chuckled on the sidelines.

"Um… uh," Rei had been a bit flustered, but Tyson had gladly picked up the conversation from there and the tension had all but disappeared from the room.

At least that was how it seemed to the children; to the adults it was an entirely different matter altogether.

"She managed to completely throw off their depression, it's impressive. Innocence is a blessing, isn't it, Alexander?"

Somehow, during the flight, the seating arrangement had changed as Tyson, Max, Rei, Kenny and Hilary all gathered to sit together on one side of the plane. Consequentially, the adults found themselves drifting closer, and Max's father now looked over to Mr. Dickenson, who was seated next to him.

"Indeed it is, Mr. Dickenson, but please, call me Alex." He answered, then after a moment he added "But it is prudent to remember that there is 'no darkness but ignorance.'"

The elder man sighed, "Indeed, my boy." Mr. Tate's only response to the new diminutive was a slight quirk of his eyebrow.

Mr. Granger, although listening to the conversation ongoing in front of him, did not make any input as he watched instead his grandson as he laughed with his friends. It took effort and quite a bit of resilience on his part to even reprimand the boy when he had done something wrong, but to act abusive and vindictive towards him… for any reason at all, was completely beyond Mr. Granger's ability of understanding.

"What sort of a _monster_," and he didn't use the word lightly, "would do such a thing… to his own grandson!" His words were soft but the emotion behind them was palpable.

Mr. Dickenson's wince was almost unnoticeable, but Mr. Tate saw it, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully, but deciding not to comment.

"That… is not a question we can answer," The Chairman answered at length, though Alex suspected otherwise. "What we should hope for, is that Kai, being the tough boy he is," he stressed 'is' "managed to survive the year in Russia."

Mr. Tate looked at the man, knowing for sure now that there was something, if not many things, Mr. Dickenson was not telling them. "Tell me Stanley," he said slowly. "What kind of a child is this _Kai,_ that he would be able to not only survive, for a prolonged period of time, _alone _in a foreign country, not to mention in the _winter_, but without clear access to _food_ or _money_ and too young to get a respectable _job_. Tell me, how independent is this… _streetblader_?"

Mr. Dickenson gazed steadily out the window of the plane, but Alex, sitting so close, could see the older man's chubby hands wringing themselves nervously.

"Well, first of all, Russia is not exactly foreign to the boy."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, in fact, Kai was born there, has a Russian citizenship, in fact."

Mr. Tate frowned _'But the boy must be Japanese'_.

"And a Japanese citizenship?" He asked, just to clarify, but when Stanely shook his head in negation, Alex's eyebrows shot fully up—he wondered why Kai had a Russian citizenship, after all, one doesn't usually need a citizenship for the country in which they were born—as he pondered the implications of that single statement, there were many. Less important was the question of how Kai had gotten on the Japanese team when he wasn't even Japanese, most severe and potentially disturbing was that if Mr. Dickenson knews so much about Kai, how did this disappearance go unnoticed for so long? Russia should have been the first place they looked. And, on that note, why hadn't they found him yet? The boy was _fifteen_, for goodness sake! How hard could he be to track down?

While Alex pondered, Tyson's grandfather took the opportunity to clarify Mr. Dickenson's words:

"But the dude left when he was just a young'un, 9 or so'z, right?"

Mr. Dickenson nodded. "Indeed. The boy went missing after an incident at the place he lived, only to show up publicly a year later in Japan as the—ahem… 'Esteemed Lord Hiwatari's Prodigal Grandson'"

Mr. Dickenson's choice of words was interesting, and Mr. Tate couldn't help but wonder what it meant to be a prodigy in that house; but he bit back that question, noting instead how Stanley had omitted the name of where Kai had lived in Russia and asked the older man about it.

Mr. Dickenson paused at the question and it was obvious he had purposely avoided it. "He, well, Lord Voltaire himself owns a series of condominiums and has many large estates and properties all across the country... But Kai... He did not live there... he… lived at the Abbey, run by Boris Balkov, for three years, before that… there are no records."

Again, eyebrows sot up.

"I didn't know that." Mr. Granger frowned, then blinked.

"Balkov…Balkov," The name rung a bell somewhere for Mr. Tate. "Isn't he… the man who was…_arrested_ for _child abuse_, endangerment and illegal _experimentation_ on minors?!" Mr. Tate's tone was incredulous, he had heard about the story in the news, but did not know the man actually had _children_ in his care!

Mr. Dickenson nodded.

"You knew!? Why didn't you DO something?"

"Yes," Mr. Dickenson nodded wearily. "I admit, I have heard some rather disturbing stories about that institution, but even now we can do nothing about it. Mr. Balkov was acquitted and allowed to return to his position. There was simply no proof, it was all hearsay; scarcely that if you take into account how none of the children or workers would speak against him."

"That Tala-boy was proof enough! After Balkov was done with him he was literally a living android!" Mr. Granger spoke up, shocked as well.

"It turned out the process was entirely reversible and since Tala never complained of mistreatment the entire session turned into a kangaroo court as witness after witness vouched for Balkov's character, in the end, even the, procuratorate threw in the towel and withdrew charges."

Mr. Tate was not an innocent man, in spite of having lived a relatively sheltered life on the outskirts of the city as a chef with his son, he was no stranger to the darker side of the world. He knew there was evil in the world, he knew how corrupt people could become. What worried him though was having his son exposed to this. He didn't want his son around those types of people, but if what Mr. Dickenson was saying was true, Max must have already witnessed this man's poison. Just the thought of it disgusted him, and he pondered for a second taking the next flight back with his son.

Suddenly Alex was startled by a soft hand on his shoulder and turned in his seat to look into the deep blue eyes of his son. For a moment he was shocked at the maturity he saw there.

"I'll be fine, Dad," Max spoke quietly with surprising insight. "We'll all be fine. Boris can't do anything to us when we're together. We can't turn back now, we have to find Kai, and no slimeball will stand in our way!" Even the exclamation was soft, so no one else could hear, Max's voice then took on a sly tone, "Besides, you're gonna be there, and if get even a little bit as angry with Boris as you do when someone clogs the mustard bottle, he won't stand a chance against you!"

His father looked at him with exasperation, but inwardly he was proud of the conviction his boy was showing. Anyone who could inspire this much loyalty and brevity in his son was worth a closer look. His son's health and well-being came first and nothing could ever change that for him, but even still, he had to admit, this Russian boy had his curiosity spiked as well: as it had now become clear to him that Kai was, at least in part, responsible for the strength his son had gained in character over the past two years. He looked at his son with a smile, and the pride must have been obvious because Max rubbed the back of his neck as a pink blush stained his cheeks. He muttered as 'aww, Dad! Don't look at me like that!' then went back to join his friends. Mr. Tate just kept watching, and smiling.

Ryuunosuke smiled at the small exchange between father and son, not quite hearing, but getting the gist easily enough. But even though he was happy that the two were finally bonding, he was more concerned about the situation in Russia. He knew Kai almost better than the younger boys did and understood a part of the boy's character that many shrugged off as rebelliousness and insolence. Even when he had just met the young man, something about him, his eyes, posture, his personality, he had triggered a rare protectiveness in the older man that only came close to how he felt about Tyson. His grandson was fine, happy and within his sight. Now he wanted to know if this other boy could have even survived what he had been through, through no choice of his own but completely overlooked by everyone else. Mr. Granger did feel some guilt about that, but also felt that Mr. Dickenson could have done something more, with all the information he had. But now was not the time to argue. Not in front of the kids, so instead he asked a more rhetorical question,

"You never answered Alex's question, Stanley; could Kai have survived this year? Is he capable of living on his own?"

By now, everyone in the plane had quieted and was listening closely.

Everyone was expecting something bad: either an uncertain noise or shake of the head, but no one was expecting Mr. Dickenson to let out a sudden chuckle.

"I would think so," he said heartily. "The boy has been very independent since day one. After all, he single handedly coached and managed the Bladebreakers when he was only 14."

"Wait," Rei frowned. "He did what?"

Kenny on the other hand, whipped his head around, "That was him?" He squeaked incredulously.

"Who would have known!" Dizzy piped up suddenly from the laptop in front of the mousy haired boy. "Mr. Icy DID care!"

"But I always thought it was YOU sending the tickets and hotel receipts Mr. Dickenson?" Kenny continued as though the laptop hadn't spoken.

"No, no my boy," The older man laughed as though the very idea was funny. "I was in no position to manage your team with the care and consideration necessary to your specific needs; I had neither the insight nor the time, I merely provided the funds. Wherever you slept, whatever you ate, whenever you trained and whichever tournament you registered for, was all designed and coordinated by Kai. For whatever reason, he did not want you boys to know this, so he would fill out the paperwork and agenda accordingly, and then send it all to me for approval." Mr. Dickenson paused for a second of thought, "Actually, I can't remember many times when I disapproved of his decisions. Most were quite unorthodox, but the boy was surprisingly competent in the area."

"Wait a minute," Tyson interrupted with a shake of his head, not understanding what the older man was saying. "You're saying that KAI was the one who decided everywhere we went? But he never said, or did a thing when we were talking 'bout that stuff!"

"…That's not really right, Tyson" Max said slowly, with an apologetic look at his friend when the sapphire haired teen appeared mildly affronted at the contradiction. "I mean…remember? We always asked Kai for money for food and stuff, we just thought Mr. D told him what to give us. We didn't think he actually counted the money himself."

"So that's what he was up to all the time…" Mused Rei absently. When he noticed the questioning looks he was receiving he elaborated. "Kai and I usually shared a room more often than not," he started, explaining this point for the benefit of the adults and Hilary. "We got along fine and Max, Tyson and Kenny liked to bunk together. It was only sometimes when they had a fight or something when we'd split them." He grinned at the younger boys who huffed in return. "Kai would stay with Max and Kenny, and I'd bunk with Tyson. We'd do that 'cause even though Kenny and Max were a little scared of him, putting Tyson and Kai together was like throwing meat to starved lions and telling them to 'play nice.'"

Hilary snorted at this and decided she liked this guy.

Tyson rolled his eyes, "Your point, Rei?"

"Oh yeah," Rei chuckled, but sobered quickly. "But when we did share a room he was always up late working at something on the desk. I tried to look a few times, but there's absolutely no sneaking up on the guy; it's like he has eyes on the back of his head or something. He'd always catch me, gather the papers and GLARE at me…" Rei let out a melodramatic shudder, but seemed sincere enough when he said it, as though it explained everything. But when Alex and Hilary looked around, it seemed as though they were the only ones who didn't understand the comment as Max and Kenny smiled understandingly while Tyson nodded fervently. Even Mr. Dickenson had a shadow of a smile on his face and Mr. Granger was chuckling quietly.

"What, exactly, does a stare have to do with anything?" Asked Mr. Tate curiously, feeling a bit left out. Hilary mirrored his expression.

The looks he received made him feel as though if he'd just asked if the sky was blue.

"Just you try questioning old red-eyes when he's glaring at you," said Tyson wryly, a tone Mr. Tate had no idea the boy could manage. "He does it a lot, so you'll definitely see it in Russia."

"-If we see Kai in Russia." Rei couldn't help but add. Everyone was quiet again, but this time Hilary had had enough.

"Guys! Snap out of it!" She said loudly. "What sort of behavior is this: moping about? You're supposed to be a world-class team for drying out loud! Teams stick up for their members; they don't go around feeling sorry for themselves!"

She was relieved when Rei smiled and answered, glad that she hadn't just made a fool out of herself with her impromptu pep talk. "You're right," He said. "Besides, Kai wouldn't want us moping over _him_, he'd probably prefer if we didn't think about him at all."

"He'd want us to train," grumbled Tyson.

The adults smiled and Mr. Dickenson leaned back to whisper to Tyson's Grandfather: "I think I know why Kai was always so frustrated."

"On the plane, Tyson?" Max questioned dubiously.

"Bad things might happen then," Rei mused with a finger to his lip. "Remember the peanuts, Tyson?" Said boy turned a light shade of green as he remembered the stomach ache he'd had after the stale peanuts he eaten during the trip to China the previous year.

"Kai ate those too!" He retorted, "he'd probably say it's something we need to overcome, or something."

"Not likely," mumbled Kenny.

"Maybe he'd get you to meditate with your eyes closed and arms crossed," Dizzy interjected over Kenny's voice.

"'_Kai's the best, Kai's the best._'"

Everyone chuckled. Hilary meanwhile looked over at Rei mischievously; as idea for getting good blackmail forming in her mind.

"So Rei," she started. "You said Tyson and Kai didn't get along? What _exactly_ did they used to do to each other?"

And the time passed, with laughter and many embarrassing stories…

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'**;**.**;**' ..._Many hours later…_

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"SO! If a squared plus b squared is equal to c squared, what would that make b equal to?"

"Umm… 2?"

"Tyson! We haven't even started the question yet! If a squared plus b squared is equal to c squared, then you subtract a squared from both sides. Then you find the positive and negative roots of c squared minus a squared, and THAT is equal to b! You get it?"

"I'm hungry. Yo, Mr. D! We there yet?"

"Argh!"

Rei and Max looked behind themselves at Tyson and Hilary. Tyson was yawning; while Hilary let her head fall on the edge of the window muttering something about brick walls being easier to teach. They turned back forwards and exchanged amused grins.

"I feel sorry for Hilary" snickered Rei, not sounding the least bit sympathetic.

Max laughed openly, "don't be, she'll get back at Tyson somehow, like when she stuck gum in his hair. They had to chop his hair."

"Oh, so THAT'S what happened to his ponytail, I was wondering about that."

"Tyson threw a fit" and they both snickered again, Max remembering the scene, while Rei's imagination did a good job of providing him a mental picture.

Meanwhile, in front of all the others, the atmosphere around a certain bespectacled boy was quite different.

'_No one bothered to say so much as 'hello' to ME'_ Kenny thought bitterly. '_I'm more social than Kai and even then he STILL gets to be the center of attention.'_ He knew he shouldn't be so selfish. Kai was probably fighting for his life somewhere in Russia, while he sat comfortably in a private jet munching on a brownie. That didn't help Kenny's jealous though; he knew that if anyone could survive in Russia, it would be Kai. Kai was so strong, '_unlike me, no one cares if I'm smart, they got Dizzy. All I have is this weak, pathetic body_—_'_

"Why so glum, chum?" Dizzy questioned from the laptop on table before him.

"It's nothing." The small boy answered shortly.

"You can tell me anything," she assured him.

Kenny bowed his head so that his mousy hair fell over his thick, round glasses. '_No' _he answered silently in his head '_not everything. There are some things I'm too ashamed to tell you, Dizzy. I could never tell you that even though I love being here, I envy the others. I wish I could beyblade, I wish I was strong, or funny. God, I'd even take Kai's life over mine! I don't care if he had it hard, look at how everyone's falling over themselves worrying about him! They all think they're so great… I could, almost… hate them._ Kenny halted his own thoughts then with a jolt.

'_Have I really become so despicable?'_

Grabbing Dizzy, he quickly pulls up files and statistics on the Bladebreakers, immersing himself so deep in the numbers even his most disturbing thoughts had to leave a message.

'_Anything to take my mind off things.'_

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A few hours later, a loud whoop was heard, startling more than one person on the plane.

"Yeah! I see land! Land! FINALLY, I was beginning to waste away…!"

"God forbid TYSON should miss a meal!" Max grinned.

"Now Tyson," Dizzy chirped. "Don't worry; we'll feed you up nice and good."

"Hey, Russian food's good!" Tyson cried defensively.

Soon, a thickly Russian-accented female voice came from the above speaker: "_Pajalsta… pleease fahsten your seatbelts; cahptain vill lahnding plane een… 20 menootes."_

Tyson slumped, "20 minutes? Oh man… I can't last that long."

Hilary perked up, "Oh! Just enough time to finish the Pythagorean Theorem."

"Oh no…"

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**_End Chapter 6_…**

**… _To Be Continued_**

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Ok! Another chapter done. I'll admit that originally, this chapter and the last were both one large chapter (one very, very large chapter). I had to cut it down, which is why there was no change in POV this chapter, it was still important in it's own way though. It's supposed to show how the Bladebreakers really are just children (they don't quite understand the situation Kai is in, and they don't remain serious or thoughtful for long); also the adults will play an important role in this story, so I needed to introduce their characters. And Kenny too! We can't forget about him! So no Kai this chappie, ahh well, builds up the suspense for the next chapter!

And now it's reviewer time!

**kavbj: **Hello, hello! Yes, Kai is very difficult, but we love him _because _he's difficult. I mean it wouldn't be nearly as much fun if he just ran over, gave Tyson a hug, handed Max a lolly and blurted out all his secrets to Rei, would it? Besides, it's so much _fun_ making the Bladebreakers guilty about forgetting about him! After Kai, I think Rei is my favorite character, speaking from season one mind you, (so he's gonna have a side story as well). However Tala comes in close third, so we'll be seeing them all… eventually. And… no clingy female original character clinging to Kai (although I can't vouch for random crazy fangirls, I mean nothing can stop them! Not even the invisible borders of fanfiction! Kai recently disappeared 'cause one of them managed to break in and steal his scarf (I knew he had extras of those lying around…) I have to go find him before the next chapter!)! Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chappy!

**Same Anonymous:** Hah hah! I'm guessing you're the ehem, cough, _same_ 'Anonymous' from the prologue? Well, I'm glad you're still reading my fic and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thanks for reviewing!

**wolf's lament: **Yay, a new reviewer! Hi, I'm glad you like the story so far, I know there's an ironical statement to be made about how you commented on the alternating POV's just at the point where I broke that trend, but my rent-a-muse has gone on sick leave, so I'm not gonna bother trying… I can say that it was intentional (I put a little more effort into the Kai chapters, but the Bladebreaker ones are still fun to write) although I also did it to show the passage of time, without having to go backwards when I change POV's.

As I said above, originally this chapter and the last were supposed to be one long chapter but I broke them down (which is probably why it seems like a continuation of the same conversation), that's why there was no altering in the POV. As for Hilary, as a girl myself, I can appreciate the variation a female character can bring to the story (along with a new viewpoint). Hilary is one of the only female characters in Beyblade and to tell you the truth I never disliked her so much as thought she wasn't used to her potential. She will be vocal, and possibly an important part of the story, I haven't decided yet. But I had to use her, and since she wasn't in season one, I had to introduce her some other was…It's interesting, I find authors claim they hate Hilary, but then go and insert their own female character who becomes more annoying than Hilary herself was… But anyway, I find it fun having her around, making fun of Beyblade (Dragon stickers indeed!). Oh, and in the future there will, possibly, be some Hilary and Kai interaction. Fun, fun!

I'm glad you like the Huo family! Yes they will show up again… but what _purpose_ do they serve…?

**FlamingIce94:** Hi again! Yay, you're still reading my fic, I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well. Personally, I think I'm more partial to the Kai chappies, but that's probably because I spend more time on them (even if they are shorter). Honestly, with his grammar and vocab, I think I've learned more new words than my readers by writing Kai! (Yes, the Thesaurus has become my constant companion, I even named it… 'here Thessy, Thessy…' ehem, cough, right… moving on), I'm glad I'm not the only one learning knew words here (grin). Oh, and as for Kai meeting up with the 'Breakers… now, now, we can't rush things! I've gotta keep you in suspense somehow! He will meet them… in time, but there's quite a bit of stuff that's got to happen before that (but then again, if I manage to keep updating every 2-3 weeks, who knows?). Now, as for Rei and the White Tigers… hah, well, maybe Mariah will be even more fun in person!...Yes, _poor_ Rei (evil chuckle).

**phoenix-falling:** Hello again! Hah, I'm really glad you liked the Tyson-Hilary thing, I wasn't sure about my ability to make humor (It's hard! Angst comes so much more easily), but if you enjoyed it I consider it as successful (now, if only poor Zeo could have found out about that mark he lost…heh heh). Thanks for the really nice review, really though, it's you guys that make _me_ feel special!

**XSilentX-XShadowsX:** Hi, and thank you for reviewing. It's funny that you mentioned the last sentence of chapter 5, when I was writing it I kept wording it differently, and rewriting it, I wanted to make it short but also effective and I couldn't seem to get the words just right (I'm sure you know what I mean). I kept wondering if it even really made a difference or if anyone would notice it, but you did! And I'm glad you liked it! And I don't mind if you only review one chapter! I'm happy you reviewed at all! I appreciate it (I don't even review most of the stories I read, so I can't exactly say anything, can I?). Anyway, this chapter was along many of the same lines as the one before, so I hope you enjoyed it as well!

**d1bontemp: **Yay, another new reviewer! Hi, and thanks for reading my fic. When I first started this fic, it was actually during the time when the third season was still airing (in Canada, that is). I kept delaying putting it up though, 'cause I wasn't sure if you guys would like it… Then they cancelled the show and I figured I should just throw it out there and see what happens… and now I'm glad I did! I hope you also liked this chapter, there was a lot more of the adults in it; I had to include them since they are going to be important as time goes on. And don't worry, by the time I'm done with him, Mr. Tate will be a changed man, he has no idea what he's getting into (evil chuckle). Keep reading!

**Adio, and please review.**

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	8. A Mule's Burden

**Chapter 7**! And it's my Birthday! Whoot!

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it, don't pretend to own it; now lemme go write more Kai story!

YAY! Happy Birthday to me, happy Birthday to me! Finally, I'm 18, and as my Birthday present to all you lovely folk, here is Chapter 7, a Kai chapter!... Hm, I guess this means I have to go update my profile now…

Enjoy

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

_After the world championships in Russia, Kai just wanted to vanish. Then one day, inevitably, Kai is drawn back and ensnared in an intricate web of magic and legends; wrought by forsaken history and controlled by none other than Voltaire._

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"_Mad, adj: Affected with a high degree of intellectual independence."_

- Ambrose Bierce (1842-1914)

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**Chapter 7: ****_A Mule's Burden_**

The white bellied, plastic cuckoo screeches one last time before retreating quickly into its house, signaling the turn of the 21st hour. I'm back on my hands and knees cleaning various floors and tables. It's during these times that I truly appreciate and grieve the size of this place. In total there are seven small tables, five large ones and eight booths; how they all fit in here comfortably is an illogicality, considering the rather small circular room they are enclosed by.

At any rate, the restaurant had closed 3 hours ago and I am now undertaking the harrowing task of 'extra cleaning' Mr. Huo so graciously 'requested'. As to the actual subject matter that has been cleaned thus far… well, at the very least I can now fully understand the childish fear of looking in dark places.

It's disturbing to know all the various colors bread can turn while marinating under a table.

I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand and silently thank the heavens that all stores close at 6 here, not at 12 or 1 in the morning, like in Japan. I remember hearing the Huo's talking about keeping the restaurant open longer but in truth there were only so many unlawful actions one could do before gaining the unwanted attention of the government. As it was, we had already barely sidestepped the law by opening the restaurant, ours being the only one—aside from the grandiose _Pushkin_ _Café _one could find the governmental reps dining at—in the entire city. Worse still is the fact that we do not limit our menu to Russian foods, but have added a generous smattering of Chinese cuisine as well, with the occasional Japanese dish thrown in.

I have a feeling though, that the couple would normally have no problem in protesting their rights—likely the reason they fled China—but were probably deterred by the thought of Sonya and Mikhail. Their compliance worked out fine for me, since the less attention I received the better; besides, only gangs and drunkards walk the streets after 6: not anything near the ideal, attractable consumer market. I just wonder sometimes at the twist of fate that threw the Huo's out of one communist regime, straight into another. The irony is almost cruel.

After at least an hour or two more of scrubbing passed before I feel, rather than hear, someone approach me from behind.

"Yes, Mrs. Huo?" I ask directly and hear her soft chuckle.

"I'll never understand how you do that, Kolya."

I smirk as I continue scrubbing. She does not see this since I am still turned away from her.

"Practice." I answer at length, feeling strangely as though I owe her some sort of response.

I hear the woman lower herself to kneel next to me, but I continue scrubbing, not wanting to see the soft, caring expression I know is on her face. I cannot allow myself to get carried away by insubstantial emotions: too weak to sustain time and too capricious to inspire truth. It is a simple fact of my life that I will not let myself be deceived by people pretending to care about me, not even the woman beside me can transcend that belief. I get the sense that Dranzer is disagreeing with me in the back of my mind but I ignore her. Not even she knows or sees everything I do.

"Kolya, I want to talk with you. I would appreciate it if you would look at me." Mrs. Huo's voice is still soft, but admonishing.

I sigh mentally, but set down the cloth and soft metal mesh scrubber with which I am cleaning the floor. I rise until I'm sitting on my knees and look straight at Mrs. Huo. I study her: Mrs. Shiori Huo, thirty-something years old and proud owner of the most perpetuating aura of eudaemonia I have ever seen, real life difficulties pending. Her eyes are the color of deep emeralds and long, dark, auburn hair flows over her thin shoulders. When she smiles her whole face lights up and anyone in the vicinity suddenly feels hard pressed to remain in a dour mood.

Therein lies the ultimate reason I dislike looking at her full on. She is so incredibly _happy;_ it is almost wrong, if there is such a thing… Moreover, I never liked the look in her eyes, faint, but there none the less.

It's the look of pity. A constant since the day she asked me if I had a home or family and gotten a short 'not anymore' in response. The look of pity: the singular, uttermost, detested emotion that I simply can_not_ stand.

I realize suddenly that I am nearly glaring, no, _scowling_, at her, and I immediately look away. She never did anything to earn my anger or scorn. If anyone, I should be the one at the receiving end of her disdain. I have no right…

She sighs and I believe that she too understands how I cannot look at her and yet, she cannot understand why. I am glad though, when she drops the subject.

"Eli told me you wanted tomorrow off. Why didn't you say anything?"

I am taken aback by the strange question for a moment, having completely forgotten that in this family one has to ask for permission before doing something. The concept is so foreign to me. I am used to a more self serving way: do whatever you want until needed for a job; no room for discussion, just do what you're told, then you're free to do what you want. This, more communal method, confuses me sometimes for its inefficiency.

"I…was going to ask you after I finished cleaning." I manage to say, not completely untruthfully. I would have _told_ her I was leaving tonight after I finished cleaning.

Mrs. Huo smiles, "Kolya, you should go."

"Huh?" Great, absolutely marvelous, even with my extensive vocabulary _that's _the only sound I can cough up? I had spent too much time with the Bladebreakers, especially if their language is _still_ affecting me.

"Eli and I will take care of the cleaning here." She says, looking around, and seemingly overlooking my temporary speechlessness. "After all, there are only a couple of small tables left. You're very quick and effective. We can handle the rest. If you leave now you can catch the last train to Moscow and be there early tomorrow. Go on, you've done more than enough here." She makes a small motion with her hands and it takes me a moment before I realize she is _shooing_ me out.

I rise to my feet slowly, unsure at first, but when she doesn't go back on her words I take them for the truth and with a short nod leave the room in a quick walk. I fly up the stairs and the next thing I know, I'm in my room, yanking off my work clothes, but making sure to carefully take the time to undo the delicate buttons. I pull on my baggy black jeans, ignoring the worn patches of grey near the knees and frayed edges, I cinch the belt tightly around my waist before reaching for Dranzer.

Dropping my bit beast carefully into my side pocket I then consider another of my old possessions. A dog-eared calender book with yellowed paged and a peeling cover lies closed on my table. I pause for a moment, considering.

With a mental shrug, I slip the book off the table and into my pocket.

Over my head is thrown my black and red sleeveless shirt which I promptly tug downward before closing the twin gold catches on each side near my neck. My discarded work clothes are then folded and placed attentively on the bed before I reach out and grab my trench coat and red arm guards.

Walking towards my table I stop just short of it and bend down. Wedging nonexistent fingernails between the floorboards, I pop loose one of the dark-stained wood panels. Reaching down into the dark cavity created by the wooden joist and gyprock, I pull out a white bottle, cotton balls and a wallet with the identification papers my grandfather had made void a year ago, ignoring the other two black containers in the hole, I replace the floorboard. It is somewhat_ fantastic_: reaching under the flooring as I am, but even I can appreciate a good hiding place: Mrs. Huo may have the finicky scruples of a museum curator, but somehow I doubt very much that she pulls out the very floorboards. I place the papers and wallet in my other side pocket, then head towards the bathroom, the white bottle hidden carefully out of sight; the coat covering my arm.

At the bathroom, I look around carefully then quickly enter and lock the door. Placing the arm guards and coat to the side I open the white bottle and ready a few cotton balls.

Make up remover.

Putting liberal amounts on the cotton, this job usually requires me to be generous, I then touch the cold cream to my check and without hesitation begin to swath my cheek in the gunk vigorously.

It is one of the reasons I had insisted on a salary. The couple might have thought it odd, since they were already offering both food and shelter. What else could I have possibly needed? Mr. Huo was very, incredibly, close to saying no; and I was busy insisting that they need not provide me food, when Mrs. Huo stepped in. She stood between us, at that time I assumed it was to stop us fighting; now I imagine it had been to prevent Mr. Huo from doing anything to me. I was in pretty pathetic shape; she probably thought he'd kill me, or something near it, for being 'a greedy little street mongrel' as he had put it. But at that time I didn't care what he did. If they didn't pay me, I would have had to move on; I couldn't risk them figuring it out. They hadn't recognized it at first, but they had been suspicious and they were smart, they would have realized eventually. Moreover, they worked at a _restaurant_. Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Huo may have been immigrants, isolated immigrants, illegal immigrants, but the customers most certainly were not. I would have been recognized in the same heartbeat that I stepped out there.

Finishing with the cotton, I reach for the facecloth.

But Mr. Huo relented. I was allowed a small monthly pay; not much, but enough for what I needed: The ability to hide what they had taken for face paint, but in actuality, had taken paint to cover what is actually my face…

I pull the facecloth away: revealing the cursed four blue triangles tattooed across my face in all their demonic glory.

Drying off, I once again disposed of the evidence—the cotton balls—in the toilet, but before flushing, decide add to it the tissue wrapped around my arm. Tearing off the offending piece of paper, I see that some of it has stuck to my arm stubbornly. The offending pieces are soon torn off and I barely spare the angry gash a glance as I reach for my arm guards. The right one goes on first then I reach for the left. I pull the ring of material over my middle finger and cover the back of my hand, but pause before doing up the strap around my wrist.

Slowly, I bring the thumb of my other hand to the median nerve and move it in a circular pattern, tracing the shape of the tattoo on my inner wrist: five dark Prussian blue—nearly black— teardrops, arranged in a five point star.

Conditional reflex satisfied, I do up the strap on my wrist, and then the one below my elbow. It covers the torn flesh easily, and I twist the blade on the end so it faces away from me properly. I ignore once more the nagging feeling to wash the cut; I just don't have the time to reopen it right now. I'll do it later.

Gathering everything, a cursory glance is sent over the room, to make sure I didn't forget anything. There's a small drop of cream on the counter which I quickly wipe up; other than that, the bathroom is completely clean.

Heading back to my room, I hide everything back where it belongs. The bottle of cream goes next to its counterpart: the black rectangular case that holds the make up. Finding the right color had been a pain: I had left the store in a cranky mood with a terrified shopkeeper; who, on her part, had probably been wondering why I needed makeup in the first place. For my part, I was wondering how hard it could have possibly been to find the right shade, regardless of whether or not it was one of the paler shades that they rarely sold.

My hand pauses on the floorboard then, as I catch sight of the second black box within the floor. I reach out and hold the small thing in my hands; the soft wood is smooth on my palm and my thumb glosses over the delicate gold accents. I caress the side and my fingers reach inside to flick the box open…

My hand jerks back and a hiss escapes my lips. The box falls into the hole and I glare at it, but it only sits there, innocently reflecting the moonlight on its surface. I throw the board back on, blocking the box from both sight and mind.

Purposely stepping on the board—a poor attempt to regain control over the object in that box—I walk to my table where I grab my scarf. I fling it around my neck, tying the knot in the front then tossing my coat on, finally twisting the scarf around so the two ends swing freely behind me, the way I've always worn it.

Finally ready, I rush out of the room and am soon standing before Mrs. Huo, who has not moved from place on the ground where I had left her. She looks at me, and—no matter how fleeting and discreet the glance—I see her eyes lock on my face for a second; a calculating frown crosses her feature for barely a moment before it's replaced by a knowing smile as she looks me over completely. I'm glad that she didn't mention my face, but then realize that she is probably giving me that look because of how little time I took to change. I must have given her the impression that I am anxious to leave. Shifting my stance, I mentally force myself to be considerate.

"Are you certain you will be able to handle things here? I know Mr. Huo is still occupied with the paperwork. You will be left to look after the twins and close up alone. I—"

She places a hand over my mouth, I stop speaking, startled. I hadn't even noticed that she'd stood. Mrs. Huo laughs then.

"My, Kolya! I don't think I've ever heard you say so much at once!" She throws me a teasing grin. "Don't waste energy here. I may not really like that idea of you returning to the past that brought you to us half dead as you were—yes I know you're going back, I can tell from that paint you have on, you had the same thing on when you showed up on our doorstep. But I can see how excited you are, in spite of how you're trying to hide it. You aren't abandoning us, don't worry, we'll be FINE. So go already, it's only one day."

And she pushes me towards the door gently.

I turn back to her and cannot resist a short bow,

"_Arigato, Huo-san_" _Thank you, Mrs. Huo_, Japanese, her native tongue. She looks at me oddly, probably detecting the lack of accent on the single word, but brushes it off. She probably believes I picked the word up somewhere and decided to impress her with it. Little does she know…

"I'll make it up by working twice as hard the day after, I owe you that much, since Mr. Huo is—"

Suddenly I freeze.

_What did I just say?_

For a second nothing is said, and I hope Mrs. Huo didn't catch the slip. Her brows furrow and that hope is blown to pieces.

"Kolya?" Her voice is low, and I nearly cringe, but instead look away. _'Fool. Idiot. You are **never** loose with your tongue. Never.'_ I mentally berate myself. _' "A tongue that moves without restraint deserves to be cut off." Is that not what you learned? Mistakes are intolerable.'_

"What is Eligio doing the day after tomorrow?" Mrs. Huo continues

I don't answer. I can't answer; bound by the promise, and ashamed of it.

"_Kolya?_" She says sharply. I look at her then just as quickly shift my gaze.

"Oh, Kolya," Her voice softens and my gaze snaps up to hers in surprise. "He told you not to tell me, didn't he?" Her voice is understanding all of a sudden, and I don't have to answer her, just the way my eyes keep slipping from hers is answer enough.

"He's going out again," she murmurs to herself. "Probably wanted to go out tomorrow, but you must have…" She looks at me but I don't answer, almost as though she is reading my mind, she immediately puts a hand on my shoulder.

"It's not your fault Kolya, not at all! You have just as much right to have a day off as anyone in this family, and tomorrow's special… I just,…well… It's our _anniversary _for God's sake." The last part is quietly said to herself, but I couldn't help but overhear. The guilty feeling increases tenfold, I resist the urge to wince. _'Their anniversary, of course…'_

"I'm sorry." I say, shaking my head, vocalizing the apology is hard, but I mean it. Something about this woman seems to inspire some latent sensitivity I never knew I had. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

_'Emotion. Another mistake… another mistake. Mistakes are intolerable. Mistakes are punishable.'_

She looks at me with wide, shocked eyes. "No!" she interrupts quickly. "Don't say that!" She looks at me full on. "None of this is your fault, or even has anything to do with you. It's Eligio's stupidity and sooner or later it will hurt him just as much as it hurts us."

Her voices softens and she brings her fingertips up to brush against a fading bruise on my tainted cheek,

"Really, I should be thanking you." Her voice trembles and her eyes are unnaturally bright. The emotion is too heavy and this time I do flinch away. She stares at me sadly, but I turn away. I haven't done anything to deserve thanks. But there is nothing I can do now, just leave. So I head for the door.

"Bye," I say back to her, so low the word barely reach even my own ears—it was not meant for her to hear—my hand rests on the doorknob.

"Kolya."

I look at her over my shoulder. From what I can see she's twisting a rag between her fingers, her voice is still tight and I can tell she's fighting back tears.

"Come back…come back safely," somehow I know she means it both ways. "If you…" she hesitates then takes a calming breath and continues. "If you so much as get a single scratch not only will I confine you to this house, but I'll personally go to Moscow and tear out the eyes of anyone who hurt you, got it?"

A fraction of a nod is my limited response and I'm out the door. The door snaps shut as I let it go and walk away quickly. I don't want to see the tears I caused.

_'Because of me the Huo's stay in Russia._ _Because of me Mr. Huo drowns himself in alcohol only to become a menace to his own family. Because of me they cannot even guarantee a future for their children. Because of me…'_

It didn't matter that I try to help them as little as I can; in the end I only hurt them. It is, of course, typical that I remember now the last words my grandfather told me before throwing me out:

"_A puppet whose strings have been cut— that is what you are. Maybe you can still provide some entertainment but really you're just a piece of wood for people to trip over. The puppet has use to its master only, but I have thrown you away. Now, you really wonder where you belong?"_

His answer had been as twisted as his disgusting sneer:

"_Why, in the trash; where else?"_

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**_End Chapter Seven_…**

**… _To Be Continued_**

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**NOW! **For **MY** Birthday present, every one of you readers **HAS** to send me a review! **YES**, even those of you who are thinking: 'Hey! She'll never know I read this! I'm too busy to write anyway. So I'll just pretend I never read the author's note and skip off on my merry way'… Well, you ARE NOT allowed to skip off on your merry way, send a review and THEN you can skip off on your merry way.

…After all, school's starting next week; I might not have _time _to update… but **_reviews_** might make me more _inclined_…

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Anyway, that was my shameless plug, now for you guys who've actually BEEN reviewing!

**Miako6:** Thy wish is my command (or is it thine?)… Anyway, you wanted a Kai chapter and here you go! This whole chapter was all him… Though, I think it was just _slightly_ shorter than the last chapter…maybe… ah ha ha (rubs back of head, grinning sheepishly) well, 1 out of 2 ain't so bad, is it?

**kavbj:** Hey, good news! I found Kai and the scarf just in time for this chapter (I had to track the fangirl down and steal the scarf back (which was an ordeal in and of itself, good grief those fangirls have some beefed up security!), and then I had the threaten Kai to come back or I'd throw it in the paper shredder—It's a good thing he came… my shredder is so weak it can barely shred paper let alone fabric…But let's not tell him that, shall we?). As for Kenny…hmmm, methinks his problems might lead to some _bigger_ problems for the 'Breakers… you think? Oh and as for what Hilary was rambling about… well, the Pythagorean Theorem isn't actually that difficult once you learn it (if you haven't already) I just wanted it to sound really complicated. Hilary hasn't quite learned the fine art of tutoring yet… looks like she needs some tutoring herself…Now I wonder who could help with that? ;) Oh and I feel your pain about Math (I actually did follow your whole math spiele!), it's one of my least favorite subjects (right after chemistry), funny how no matter where you live, the math teachers are always reliably boring (except Tyson's, of course!). Now, lemme see… if I remember correctly though… 0d (space) is a dot…1d (length) is a line…2d (area) is a square… 3d (volume) is a cube… and 4d (time) is a tesseract… ok I admit, I looked up the last one in Wikipedia… and yes… I realize that the fact that I actually had the interest to do that is somewhat sad…

**HiyaPriya:** Hello! Glad to hear from you again, and also glad you liked the updates (hope you liked this one too!). Yes, I admit I'm an avid subtitle reader, (though my parents speak Gujrati so they understand Hindi too). I'm trying…slowly…to learn the language. BUT, I do, at least, understand some of those obvious words… you know: betta, betti, zindagi, pyar, mohabbat, (goodness, how do you spell that in English?) and Sholay (of course!). And yes, I've watched Krrish (but I like Koi…Mil Gaya better), I saw Dhoom (there's a Dhoom 2?) and Don (with Shahrukh Khan… but I like the old one with Amitabh Bachchan better)… By the way, who's you're favorite actor? I like Amitabh Bachchan (when he was younger (in the old movies, like Mr. Nutwarlal)… not so much anymore) and Shahrukh Khan. Have you seen Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham? It's a couple of years old, but it's good. It has Shahrukh Khan, Amitabh Bachchan and Hrithik Roshan in it. Good to know you're getting an account, feel free to tell me if you want me to read/review your story (if it's Beyblade, or something I know, I might not be much help otherwise!).

**d1bontemp:** It's good to know you're reading the stuff about Kai and his background and what people think about it… At some point during that chapter I wondered if I was just rambling on and on, I kept it all in there because it will become important, like for example: if Mr. Dickenson knows so much about Kai and does (seem to) care, then why was Kai missing for so long? As for the mood changing, I was trying to make it realistic, like if something serious was affecting _them_ personally, or if they could literally _see_ Kai being hurt, then they'd stay serious and think about it a lot more… But since Kai is so far away, it doesn't seem real, it's like Kai just went on Holiday…he's not really missing, just off on his own, as usual, so they worry, but not too much. Rei being a bit older and more mature, understands better than Tyson, Max, Kenny and Hilary how serious the situation is. And the adults understand even better.

**phoenix-falling:** Yup! There's Hilary for you, a real conversationalist, it could have been worse, she could have tugged Rei's hair wrap—somehow I don't think that would have ended well ;) I love it when people worry about Kai too… but Kenny, well, we all have our insecurities, and I wondered what it would have been like for an intellectualist surrounded by a bunch of jocks (in his opinion). He feels underappreciated (don't well all!) and inadequate. I think he's feelings are justifiable… but if they start to get out of hand…hmm…

**FlamingIce94:** Yay, you liked the chapter! I was worried I was being too repetitive after the chapter before…The adults are going to be important as time goes on. I like them too, they give a different perspective on things (they are more serious and suspicious). Also, I always wondered why anyone would let their 14 year-old son go off gallivanting across the world without any supervision, wouldn't they be worried? Anyway, I hope to make an even distribution of time among anyone (except Kai, who, for now, gets his own chapters), but if I start to leave anyone out, feel free to call me on it.

**wolf's lament:** Heh, well, ask and ye shall receive: a Kai chappie and the trend's return (for a few more chapters, at least). I always thought of Mr. Granger as a kindly, Grandfatherly type, I also though he would be the kind of guy who would see past Kai's 'tough guy' exterior. I'm glad you like that I'm including him, there will be more adults in this story, but believe me, not all of them are going to be as inclined to Kai as Mr. Granger and Mr. Tate ;)! But even so, it's fun having so many people wondering and caring about Kai when he himself thinks everyone either a) is out to get him, or b) hates him. As for Kenny, ah ha, to tell you the truth, I very nearly forgot about him. As I was outlining this story, I saw an episode of Beyblade on TV and I suddenly realized 'Oh no! I forgot about Kenny… but… well, is anybody really going to care?' But I didn't really want to leave anyone out, so after awhile I came up with this idea (the self-conscious 'intellectual' surrounded by 'jocks') and… we'll have to see where it goes! Hope you liked the chapter!

**banan:** Wohoo! _Super_ long review! And I try to keep the chapters between 9 to 13 pages long. I could make 'em longer but then I wouldn't be able to update every two weeks, so it's give and take. Besides I don't think I could wait longer than two weeks to update ;) Don't worry, I'm not 'cutting it short', no way! If anything, I think it might take too _long_ to get where I'm heading with this story! And yes, Rei is back! But he isn't completely blond, just has a strip of his bangs dyed white, I thought it would look cool (shrugs :D). I like Rei, so he will be around. Kai is still the main character and Tala WILL show up (sorry, it might not be for a few chapters, but he WILL have a significant role, and it will satisfy the fangirl needs). :)

Hee hee, 'Bonebreakers' you know that's not a bad idea… (uh oh, my muse is thinking, we should run, now. She usually comes up with some diabolical, nefarious plan that ends in Kai torture… which in turn sends Kai into a seething rage… it's not pretty). And I love it when people talk about Kai, and there's never enough of it in the stories I read (talking that is non-romantic I mean, which is even harder to come by), so I'm probably gonna have a lot of it in this story. Oh, and speaking of romance… NO KaixHilary and no yaoi. At least, not on Kai's side… now I can't vouch for Hilary's reaction when she sees Kai… honestly, can any girl resist him? XD. I agree completely though, no girl on the show is good enough for Kai (I never seem to like anime girls, actually, I just think they're too… blah, no character). Anyway, romance will not be a big thing, I guarantee it.

Voltaire… believe it or not, Voltaire is one of the hardest characters for me to write. He just doesn't seem to come naturally. I'm glad you like him so far, (… wait a minute… you LIKE him? XD) anyway, he's going to be important (after all, his name is in the summary!) so keep an eye out for him. And Kenny's character was a spontaneous creation. That's all I have to say in that, we'll see where it goes for here…

Now to answer you questions… well, no romance, and as I said, Tala will show up eventually as will the other Demolition boys. I have the perfect idea for them (_laughs evilly and rubs hands together… but stops when Kai walks by… but he just keeps going, _I guess that as long as I'm not planning Kai-torture he doesn't really care… huh).

Really, this story is exactly how you want it to be? (And I'm not even going to comment on your sentence structure, there was absolutely nothing wrong with it! Your English is better than some of the people I know who've been speaking it all their lives. I'm serious!) You're just being nice… I loved the long response though (and clearly we're creating a trend here with super-long "non babbling" responses) and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

**Adio!**


	9. Arrival

It has arrived:** Chapter 8**

AIE!! YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING!! You sent _so many reviews_, I feel so special :D, 54 reviews! Thank you all, and please keep reading! Reviewer notes are at the end as always!

**Disclaimer:** (_does a dance_) I don't own Beybladeee! Do not ownnn Beyblade! Could never own Beyyyblade… ok I think you get the point now…

Oh yeah, and the phrase 'subtle as a flying mallet' is from the show Danny Phantom, so I don't own that either :)

Please note that although in some places I stick to true Russian history but overall this story is a product of my imagination with no reflection on real life situations or the world today.

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**_PLEASE READ!_**

As a **note**: I took liberties with names and personalities; Oliver Polanski is Oliver Marselis in my fiction (makes him more French) and the other characters (White Tigers, Majestics etc.) may be slightly tweaked, nothing majorly out of character though.

As an **additional note**: Rei's hair is not completely blonde… there's a strip of white hair among his bangs, but that's all.

As an **additional note to the additional note**: I was kindly informed of an error in chapters 1 and 6 by **banan**. I had claimed twice that Mr. Tate discovered Kai was Russian. Please allow me to clarify: Mr. Tate found out from Max that Kai was born in Russia. His comment_ 'It really shouldn't have been a surprise to find out that the boy was indeed Russian.'_ Was a reference to Russia's self-serving, perfidious and sometimes erratic behavior during the first and second World Wars.

Now, in chapter 6, Mr. Dickenson states that Kai is Russian and—quite contradictory to before—Mr. Tate is surprised. What I meant to say was that Mr. Tate thought that Kai was a Russian-born, _Japanese_ citizen… he did not know Kai was a _Russian_ citizen. Kai is not a Japanese citizen… Now the question is: why not? Oh and before you say that Kai shouldn't have been afraid of being deported, remember that he's _underage_; ergo, if Kai was found in Russia, he would have been sent to Japan, back under the _loving_ care of his guardian: Voltaire.

As an **additional, additional note to the additional note** (yes, this is the VERY last one): **Keylor** pointed out another error in the preceding chapters. It seems as though, for some reason, the chapters **Truth** and** 2 Plus 2 is Always 4** were showing up as the same chapter, repeated. I fixed this problem, sorry if any of you were thrown by this. Also some unintentional errors in chapter 5 (such as stating that Tyson carried Rei up the mountain when it was really vice versa) were fixed.

**_END OF NOTE!_**

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Enjoy!

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

_After the world championships in Russia, Kai just wanted to vanish. Then one day, inevitably, Kai is drawn back and ensnared in an intricate web of magic and legends; wrought by forsaken history and controlled by none other than Voltaire. _

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"_The most common of all follies is to believe passionately in the palpably not true. It is the chief occupation of mankind."_

_­_-H. L. Mencken (1880-1956)

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**Chapter 8: _Arrival_**

When the plane landed in Sheremetyevo International Airport, Moscow; Russia, 10 _post meridiem_, local time, Tyson was the first one out and bounding through the gate.

"YAY! LAND! Now, where's the food court?"

The boy rushed off in a random direction, and the others had to rush to keep up with the rapidly fading speck in the distance that was Tyson.

"Tell me…again" Kenny puffed next to Rei and slowly falling behind. "Why…_puff_… are we…_puff_, following him?"

Rei grinned down at the Chief, not affected in the least by the run. "Because this airport is huge and if we loose Tyson we'll never find him again."

"Besides," added Hilary as she passed Kenny and came up behind Rei, "Knowing Tyson, he's probably raising hell wherever he is."

Max laughed, "He doesn't have any money does he?"

"Uh oh."

Behind the kids, the adults followed at a slower-but-still-faster-than-a-walk pace.

"Come on homies! Step it up a notch!" Tyson's grandfather encouraged the others as he strode forward with purpose, his floral t-shirt billowing behind him.

"Oh my! I think I know where Tyson got all his energy!" Mr. Dickenson cried, pulling at his mustache and looking quite harassed as he tried and failed to increase the speed of his waddle.

From Mr. Dickenson's side, Mr. Tate sighed. "I'm getting too old for this."

Neither man noticed Mr. Granger's slight stumble, or the cough he stifled with his handkerchief.

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When Tyson had rushed off, he had thought he had smelling food. Dodging people and chairs, he rushed off in hunt of the smell…until he smashed headlong into someone, causing them both to tumble to the ground, Tyson on top. Said boy immediately began to apologize for his mistake.

"Whoa! Oh man, I'm sorry dude. Look, you probably don't understand what I'm saying and all, but sorry for bashing into you. Look, here, lemme-…" He stopped apologizing abruptly when he saw who it was beneath him.

"YOU!"

"Tyson, hey Tyson! What are you doing on the ground?"

Tyson scrambled off the person to greet Max, Rei, Kenny and Hilary again.

"Hey guys, guess who I crashed into!" He gestured behind himself grandly and they looked around him. Hilary raised an eyebrow in question, while the other boys' eyes widened in recognition.

"Enrique!"

The blond co-captain of the Majestics grinned up at them from the ground and rubbed the back of his head.

"Hello, old chaps! Great bumpin' into you again, 'bit painful though, don'cha know? But there's-a Tyson for ya, subtle as a flying mallet, speaking of which, Tyson! Ol' buddy, ol' pal, think you could lend-a old chum (though, old I am not, mind'jou) a hand down 'ere?"

Tyson stuck out a hand and quickly pulled the Italian to his feet, where he staggered dramatically, heaving great breaths as though winded.

"Heh," Tyson looked sheepish. "Sorry dude."

Enrique gathered himself and stood tall, about half a head higher than Rei, who was the tallest out of the Japanese party. He waved Tyson's apology off.

"Psh, s'all okay, my hair's still fine and there's no finer a group than you to be bowlin' a fellow over. Besides—" Then he spotted Hilary. His eyes widened as hers narrowed and he quickly brushed imaginary dust off his stiff white ruffled shirt, uttering a short "Oh!" before rushing over to her.

"And who's _this_ cool beauty? Hello, Miss" and he scooped up her hand, bent with a flourish and kissed her hand. Contrary to conventional beliefs, Hilary didn't seem to enjoy this as her lips thinned and her eyes narrowed further. "I," and he gestured grandly at himself, "am-a Enrique, _il_ _primo_ blader, forward position, for the Majestics, and who would you be?"

On the side, Max leaned over to whisper to Rei. "I thought Robert was the forward for the Majestics?"

"He is," Rei whispered back with a smirk.

Max, not understanding, let a confused expression cloud his face. "Then why—" but halted abruptly when Enrique elbowed him in the side.

If Hilary caught any of that, she didn't show it, but still didn't look overjoyed that Enrique was still holding onto her hand.

"Hilary." She answered shortly, tugging her hand from his white gloved one. "And as fascinating as that is, I have absolutely no idea what the Majestics are, let alone a _first blader_."

Enrique drew back with a hand to his chest, stumbling backwards, "The lady wounds me!" He cried. "You do not-a know who the _Majestics_ are? _The Majestics?!_" Much to Hilary's chagrin, this just instigated a lengthy reiteration of the many heroic glories—and almost heroic glories—of his team.

Meanwhile, Max approached Tyson. "What are you so worked up about?" He asked his friend.

Tyson snorted, "Me? I'm not worked up!"

Rei rolled his eyes, and leaned on a nearby pole. "Tyson, you're all red." He stated, pointing at the boy's flushed nose.

"Am not!"

Max and Rei merely laughed.

"Enrique?" came Kenny's voice suddenly. Enrique looked surprised as he looked down at the short boy.

"Oh, Kenny! Hi, I did not-a see yah there! What do-a you require, chappy?"

Kenny ignored the comment that seemed to sting more than it was supposed to, and continued, "Where are the rest of the Majestics?"

Enrique snapped his fingers and looked behind himself "Ah! Yes, I do believe the old biscuits should still be at the food court—"

"The food court?! WHERE!?" interrupted Tyson, looking wildly around. Enrique, eying Tyson, shook his head with a grin. "Still the same Granger…" and he turned, walking in the exact direction Tyson had previously been running. He beckoned with two fingers over his shoulder for them to follow, "Come on, it's-a this-a-way."

"See!" Tyson turned towards his friends, a smug grin on his face, while he bounced happily on the balls of his feet. "I knew I was heading in the right direction!" Max, Hilary and Rei just rolled their eyes in response. As they made to follow Enrique, Kenny lagged behind for awhile until Max noticed something.

"What's up, Chief?" The others stopped as well, while Kenny maintained his gaze on the distance where the adults were only just visible.

"Uh, shouldn't we… I don't know… wait for Mr. Dickenson, Mr. Granger and your dad to catch up?" He mumbled uncertainly.

Tyson seemed to deflate as he puffed out air from between his cheeks, still on his toes as he bobbed around trying to get a better view. "Oh yeah, I forgot…adult accompaniment…"

"Well it _is_ only normal, right." Hilary stated, rather than questioned. She was surprised when Rei shook his head.

"Not two years ago," he said. "We traveled all around with little more than Mr. D popping in from time to time."

"Hey Enrique," Tyson yelled towards the blond boy. "Are there any adult dudes with your team?"

Enrique looked at Tyson. "Actually, there is a nice blokette with us, Oliver's Ma. She's our manager too."

"-and your second accompaniment?" Rei probed.

"Bobby," Enrique nodded, in reference to Robert, the team captain. "He's at the ripe ol' age o' 18; lucky bas-er-bloke's legal now so'z the least we can do to pass him off as 'n adult." Enrique looked away with a badly concealed snort, "though he is not-a much o' one."

"Wow, he's old." Tyson gasped. The Italian rolled his eyes, making a side comment: something in between 'pish posh' and 'I'm 17, myself and look how beautiful I turned out!'

"You're lucky though," Max pointed out. "Getting away with practically only one escort."

"Hello boys!" Mr. Dickenson's breathy but still cheerful voice came from behind the group as he and the other two men finally caught up. Hilary sniffed disdainfully at having been overlooked again. Mr. Dickenson caught his breath and continued, "I see you found Tyson, oh and Mr. Giancarlo, it's been awhile, how have you been?" Enrique and Mr. Dickenson exchanged pleasantries, and then the latter turned towards the two men behind him.

"Mr. Tate, Mr. Granger I would like to introduce you to Enrique Giancarlo, co-captain of the European team the 'Majestics'. They placed third in the world championships last year. I believe Mr. Giancarlo plays third position for the team, is that correct?"

"Ci," the blond nodded, then brushed back his wavy hair as it fell in his eyes. Hilary snorted. _'First position my foot.'_

"See?" Tyson muttered with a frown. "See what?"

"I think he means 'yes' Ty," Max whispered back.

"Then why didn't he say so?" Tyson asked loud enough for Hilary to roll her eyes and mentally restrain herself from a 'not-so-polite' remark. She was still adjusting to being in a new country, having never traveled outside of Japan before, and she didn't want to start any arguments…yet.

As a full group of nine now, they walked together towards the food court. The Japanese group was famished and Enrique, who was leading the way, said that he should probably have been back with his team awhile ago. While Rei questioned Enrique about this—receiving an unconvincing story about 'rescuing' some poor 'damsel in distress'—Tyson was looking around, watching the people they passed.

"Why is it that every time we come here almost everyone's wearing almost the same stuff?" Tyson wondered out loud.

"It's because Russia, at best, is a communist country under the guise of democracy. Even if it may tell the world otherwise" answered Mr. Tate.

"Oh," said Tyson vaguely and Hilary decided finally that she had had enough of his ignorance.

"Granger, you don't even know what the word 'communist' means, do you?" She accused, and unsurprisingly, Tyson shook his head.

"It MEANS that everyone has equal status, with no one person considered above another in society. Originally created by Karl Marx, who wrote a book on his ideal society: an _ideal_ that was at best, a dream; as the quote goes: "from the people according to their abilities, to the people according to their needs." This ideology in its essence describes an unfair situation of life. A doctor could be working 120 hour weeks and making minimum wage, while his patient, a truck driver who only works 60 hour weeks, is provided with the hundreds of thousands of rubles necessary for his treatment. In the early 1900's a revolutionist with the pseudonym Lenin modified this idea and was the first to implement it after the Bolsheviks overthrew the Tsar in 1917. Later, Iosif Vissarionovich Dzhugashvili, renamed 'Stalin' or 'Man of Steel', came into power and perverted the idea of Marxism, otherwise known as Communism, until it was just a shadow of what Marx had envisioned; soon the entire Russian population was living in poverty, earning minimal amounts of money, wearing the same clothes and living the same lives in spite of the person's job. Meanwhile the government exploited the people and lavished themselves in wealth while the people floundered in the fields. It took decades for Russia to even begin to pull itself out of this repression, trying to jumpstart its industrialization by putting in place many restrictions, such as raising the legal age to 21. But even so, the government still holds incredible control over the people, and is astonishingly hypocritical as it blatantly ignores its own rules. You can still find children under 15 slaving in the factories. As a whole, Russia has a long way to go."

Hilary finished enthusiastically with pride, as though she had just declared the solution to Newton's rings; while Tyson just stared at her as though she had just sprouted wings and horns and told him she was really Dragoon in disguise. Next to him, Mr. Tate chuckled as he noted how Hilary had deliberately embellished her vocabulary, and made ridiculously long run-on sentences, to make her speech seem more complex then it actually had been.

"You—you're crazy…you know that, don't you?" Tyson stuttered pointedly. Enrique on the other hand brushed by Tyson and swept up Hilary's hand.

"Ooo, pretty _and_ smart, I like that!" He then put an arm around her and, ignoring Tyson's indignant spluttering, leaned in towards her with puckered lips.

Hilary recoiled in disgust from the kiss. "Ew! Get OFF me!" A rough shove and the tall seventeen year old found himself back on the ground, badly stifled snickers coming from Max only added to the humiliation. "Pervert." She muttered, dusting off her hands.

"Still ze same old_h_ Ricky…" An exasperated voice, rolling the 'R' in his name with a thick French accent, sighed from above Enrique, who threw his head back to get an upside down view of his green haired teammate.

"Ollie…" He whined, "that's not nice!" Oliver Marselis, fondly dubbed 'Ollie' by his friends, rolled his eyes.

"But it's true" came yet another new voice, this time from a flaming red head.

"Johnny! I am NOT old!"

"Alright, okay boys, that's enough now." Mr. Dickenson chided mildly in his usual high drawl.

Meanwhile, while all this was going on, Max was quiet, a confused frown on his normally cheerful face. When his father asked what was wrong, Max decided to just ask his dad.

"Dad, this may seem kinda like a silly question, but if everyone here wears like the same clothes, then why don't Kai and Tala and the others?"

Mr. Tate smiled at his son, "that's not a silly question, Max. Kai probably didn't because he lived in Japan, so he didn't have to. As for the others you mentioned… who are they?"

"The Russian Team."

"Oh, well, maybe they live in a freer part of the city, where they don't have to. Also, Russia is technically democratic, Moscow in particular; Other areas might be different, but here people probably wear those clothes out of habit or fear."

"Oh, I see."

Alex looked at his son and seemed to want to add, or ask something, but instead bit his tongue and walked slowly behind his son, a pensive expression on his face.

Max wondered why—if Tala and the others wore whatever they wanted—why the other abbey boys had been wearing uniforms?

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Once at the food court, the group sat at four sturdy wooden tables pulled together to form a long rectangle. Once everyone was acquainted (or reacquainted) Enrique noticed Johnny looking around for something.

"Lost something?" He asked the Scottish boy, slightly wary of his explosive temper.

"I'm lookin' fer dat bastard, traitor KAI. I've waited a YEAR fer a rematch and I ain't waitin' no more, and I ain't livin' with a draw; I wants best 2 outta 3 or I _rearrange_ his _face_. Where the hell iz 'e?!"

Completely ignoring Johnny's crude manner, well used to it by now, Enrique brought a slender finger to his bottom lip thoughtfully.

"Hmm… you know, I actually haven't seen him. Ask the 'Breakers."

"Hey, HEY LISTEN UP!" Effectively gaining everyone's attention, Johnny looked at Tyson with a scowl. Tyson looked surprised, wondering what he had done all of a sudden.

"Yo, hey, where's dat idiot, traitor wouldn'-be-able-to-find-'is-own-heart-if-it-bit-'im-in-'is-backside Captain of yours?" Johnny snarled jutting out his jaw, only to be replaced by a startled "HEY!" when Robert slapped him over the head firmly. Johnny glowered at his captain, but didn't say anything more.

"Huh?" Tyson asked, not quite hearing what Johnny had said.

"I believe," Robert filled in with an aristocratic voice, only touched slightly by his German accent. "That _v_hat Johnny meant to say, _v_as a polite inquiry over the absence of your Captain. Honestly, I find myself curious as _v_ell, as I haven't yet been able to catch sight of him."

Suddenly everyone was silent, and Robert looked around with a slight frown.

"I see I have been too intrusive." He said apologetically, Johnny frowned, but didn't say anything. "I understand the matter is personal, I should not have asked—"

"No, no it isn't." Max said suddenly, and everyone looked at him. Startled, he smiled weakly under the sudden attention. "They have a right to know, besides, if they can help it would be great." Seeing his team wasn't going to object to him speaking, he went on. "It's like this, you remember the Russian tournament last year?" He received nods. "Well… after that tournament, Kai… never left Russia, and he's been missing for a year now. We came here to find him, and we would appreciate any help."

There was silence as the Majestics were left to absorb this.

"_Oh là là,_" breathed Oliver, looking up with a pitying gaze at the Bladebreakers. "It_h_... It_h_ iz a big pill t_h_o swallow."

"This little powwow, then," Enrique made a horizontal circle with his index fingers, indicating the meeting. "Is-a in Russia so old Mr. Mystery could be found then?" The Italian raised an eyebrow at Mr. Dickenson, who nodded.

"Huh, I wonder what the guy did tah 'is grandfather, prob'ly betrayed 'im too."

"Johnny!" Robert's voice was sharp and Johnny grimaced and fell silent again.

"Yes, well…that is terrible news and I humbly offer the aid of my team wherever it may be required." Robert started awkwardly, trying to dull Johnny's words, though he quickly managed to smooth himself out. But his words were indifferent, much like the rest of his team, he didn't seem too overly concerned about Kai. "I hope you find him," he stood and Oliver, Enrique and Johnny followed. "But right now my team must be going, so we _v_ill see each other again, hopefully under better circumstances."

"Bye," said Oliver softly, while Johnny just stalked away.

"To the next time I have this pleasure, miss," Enrique winked at Hilary who stared reprovingly at him in return. The look was largely ignored as he just laughed it off and soon the Majestic had disappeared from view.

As the Bladebreakers waved goodbye they all felt somewhat unsettled that the European Team had seemed to care so little that one of their members was missing, but when Hilary voiced this concern they all immediately ignored her as Tyson turned to Kenny and Max towards Rei.

"So Chief, what's the time?" asked Tyson.

"Here? It's a little after 10; 10:30." The small boy answered

On the side, Max was observing Rei worriedly. "Rei, you were really quiet this whole time, is something wrong?" His concerned words cut through Rei's thoughts. The Chinese boy just gave a small smile and a shrug, but didn't answer. His thoughts were occupied by something. In specific it was something Hilary had said not too long ago:

'..._You can still find children under 15 slaving in the factories.'_

It had been an odd choice of words… Why had she said 15 in particular? Why not 16, 14 or anything else for that matter? Why had she said 15 when she knew that it was Kai's age?

But Rei had banished the thoughts as insignificant. Hilary hadn't meant anything by it; no one else had even noticed the slip. No one else except him. And he couldn't stop worrying about it

"..._You can still find children under 15 slaving in the factories."_

A shiver ran down his spine.

"Really, only 10:30?!" Tyson's voice rang through Rei's thoughts and the older youth snapped out of his depressing mind. He resolved himself to ignoring the whole thing, they couldn't afford to be pessimistic now. No matter how hard it was to be otherwise.

"Then why am I so _tired_?!" as though in proof of this Tyson let out a huge yawn.

"Jet lag," Rei's voice was soft, still a little downcast. "It's a lot later in Japan."

Max nodded, obviously sensing that his conversation with Rei was over. "Yeah, it's also been a really long day."

"I think it would be a good idea if we all went to the hotel and turned in early. We want to be well rested for tomorrow." Mr. Tate stated pragmatically.

"After all," Mr. Granger reminded them. "Remember what happened last time you boys went around at night here?"

Rei groaned, while Tyson and Max nodded. Hilary looked to Kenny for information.

"What happened?"

He eyes brightened and he spoke quickly, eager at the chance to help and inform. "Nothing here's open much after 6 and only homeless people and shady characters hang around after that. We found that out the hard way when we were walking through the empty streets sometime after 7 and got ambushed by this group of street thugs."

"They ran away though when they saw who they were dealing with." Tyson stated proudly as he flexed his biceps.

"Actually," Rei mused contemplatively. "They ran away when Kai appeared, strange huh?"

"What?" Mr. Tate asked.

"Well Kai doesn't come with us when we walk around, but every now and again he kinda pops up out of nowhere, then disappears. We have no idea where he goes half the time." Max answered, misunderstanding what his dad had asked.

"Not that," Mr. Tate said with one eyebrow raised, it hadn't been the answer he'd asked for but the information was interesting none the less, '_no idea where he goes half the time' _indeed. Did that mean Kai's disappearances were normal? Is that why no one thought it was weird? And why did he just '_pop out of nowhere'_ whenever his team seemed to need him. It was very odd, but Mr. Tate stored the information away to think about later. "I meant the thugs, why did they run off?"

"Oh, heh" Max said with a sheepish grin. "Right, well I don't know. They just kinda yelled something in Russian then ran off."

Mr. Dickenson looked up from his thoughts. This subject intrigued him. He knew for a fact that Kai had left Russia much too long ago to hold any personal standing on the streets, like he did in Japan. So what was it about him that made a bunch of hardened street criminals abandon easy prey?

"What did they yell?" He asked just a bit too anxiously. "Did Dizzy translate it?"

Rei looked at him pensively but brushed it off when the computer answered. "No," Dizzy stated, annoyed. "I didn't get the chance to because SOMEONE forgot me in the apartment."

"Sorry Dizzy, but you were downloading important data, and I can't just go running around with an expensive laptop in my hands!" Kenny dissented, upset that this somehow ended up being all his fault.

"I see," Mr. Dickenson said disappointed, and Kenny looked dismayed.

"What are you thinking?" Mr. Tate looked at the older man suspiciously. "Do you know something?"

"No…I just wonder." Not a complete lie.

"I'm telling you, it was my amazing physique!" Protested Tyson.

"Ok, ok muscle dude, let's get goin' the food court's a closin'" Mr. Granger stated briskly.

As the group left, Mr. Dickenson was left standing by himself.

"I wonder" he said softly to himself. "Those marks on his face—could they signify so much? If this is true… there may be even more sever consequences than we thought…"

The elderly man heard his name being called and hurried to catch up with his group.

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**_End Chapter Eight_…**

**… _To Be Continued_**

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OK! Now, you guys gotta tell me what you think about me adding accents and different ways of speaking for the foreign teams. Do you think I should continue doing it? AND what's going on with Mr. Granger? AND moreover, what do you think the tattoo on Kai's inner wrist means? Hmm…

And NOW for ALL YOU REVIEWERS! There are so many! You guys really are great encouragement; I appreciate it, _mucho gracias_.

And thank you all for the Birthday wishes!

**UNpReDiCtAbLE lIfE:** Thanks, Birthday was fun (full of random family members unsuccessfully trying to sneak around hiding presents… ha!). But it's unfortunate, school's already started… anyway, I updated! So, that's good, right?

**kavbj:** Honestly, I have NO idea what a tesseract is, so feel free to relay any information you get from Tess XD. Oh, by the way… if you're looking for someone to kill…(sends meaningful glances at Daichi—who is obliviously trying to steal the newspaper from Tyson …_Now how did they get in here?) _feel free to rid us of a _certain_ little red-haired _cough_pest_cough_. Ohh, and _perhaps _Kai is feeling guilt… and perhaps a lot more than that, but it's not like he's going to admit it any time soon :P. We'll just have to read between the lines, he could make it a little easier, though, couldn't he? (Snort) As if. Oie… Mr. Huo made you laugh? But it was supposed to be touching, slightly depressing moment… ah well, as long as you enjoyed it! And YES Kai wears MAKE-UP! I refused to believe it was face paint (ever since I saw the triangles in season 1). Then when he showed up in the beginning of season 2 without them I was like: 'NO! IT'S NOT TRUE! HE'S SO WEARING MAKE-UP!' And the idea was born… (laugh). Just imagine what THAT trip to the beauty salon must have been like:

_Lady: And what do you need sir? (flutters eyelashes)_

_Kai: (glare)_

_Lady: ahh—a-are you looking for a present for your girlfriend? (nervous)_

_Kai: No._

_Lady: Th-then, why—_

_Kai: I need this._

_Lady: Powder?_

_Kai:…_

_Lady: For you?_

_Kai:…_

_Lady:…Ah…gi-give me a moment… um… can I try this on your hand?_

_Kai: (Raises an eyebrow in a 'What-do-you-think?' manner)_

_Lady: O-okay then… (muttering: why is it always the hot guys that swing the other way?)_

_Kai: (stares)_

Hah! So funny! Anyway, thanks for the nice review I gotta go find Kai, annoy him, then blame it on Tyson and Daichi so that he kicks them out of my room, Byeya!

…Oh and thanks for the response to my review! Here's my chappie, and I hope you get yours up soon too!

**wolf's lament:** Hiya, you know, when I'm writing Kai chapters, it's always hard because I can't express some things (like the fact that Mrs. Huo actually _cares_ or that Kai is feeling sad or guilty, and everything has to be in a cynical or caustic tone) all the deeper stuff always has to be subliminal. And I keep wondering if you readers can tell what I'm trying to say. So it's really encouraging to know you understand what I'm trying to say, thanks!

**d1bontemp:** Thanks! And, you know, this isn't the end of Mrs. Huo, so we'll get to see more of her later. I always wanted to add in a mothering figure for Kai and I'm glad you like her! Anyway, you know, originally, when I first wrote about the cuts, their main function was to show that Kai is negligent of his own health, there were other things that were more suspicious—like the _tattoo_ in his inner wrist (raises an eyebrow suggestively)…But now you've got my rent-a-muse thinking…hmm… (she better run though, before Kai comes around again, he's already in a bad mood: probably thinks there was too much emotion in the last chapter)…

**geniecat2:** Yay! A new reviewer! Hi! Thanks for reviewing, and yes! There is sadness, some guilt and something else…Kai still doesn't have all his memories back, and he's only 15… he doesn't understand why all this is happening to him: why people keep manipulating him, hurting him, using him. He makes himself distant and cold; refuses to accept any more human empathy and believes he's doing the _right thing_. Hm… Anyway, I just hope my Birthday wish comes true (_looks suggestively at Kai…who snorts and walks away_)…Ah well… There's always next year, I guess… and love potions (_looks around to make sure Kai didn't hear…except he did, Dranzer appears_) Ah! Gotta go!

**Miako6:** Hello! Hmm… you know, I wasn't actually thinking about a flashback concerning how Voltaire threw Kai out… but if you want… maybe not in the next few chapters… but I can probably explain what happened eventually (the next time Kai thinks about it, cause he's _definitely _not **talking** about it—nor will Voltaire, for that matter XD). BUT if you like flashbacks then just wait a couple more chapters… just a couple! (evil smirk) Oh and as for meeting the team… hee hee, again, you're gonna have to wait, after all, the 'Breakers only _just_ arrived in Russia, there's still the night that has to pass, _and_ Kai's trip to Moscow… But I guarantee it'll be worth your while!

**juut Telcontar:** Another new reviewer! Hiya! Thanks for the really, really nice review! And voila! Another chapter, hope you enjoy! By the way, if you don't mind me asking, what does your penname mean? It's interesting and it made me curious :P.

**phoenix-falling:** Thanks, and you're not late, actually, my Birthday was the 31st, really. Hee hee, you work in a supermarket? Wow, you must have all _sorts_ of horror stories! My personal experience involves cleaning out the back of the refrigerator…now THAT was scary. Honestly, and here I thought the fridge was _clean_... Aie…Ohhh, I love Kai too, and I can't wait until I get to delve into the _meat_ of my story… ok, I admit, that was a bad food pun…right…I'll go now…

**FlamingIce94:** Hi! Thanks! Mrs. Huo makes for such a nice motherly figure, and I love writing her; it had to be an original character, 'cause I couldn't imagine any other woman from the series doing it (Judy has her own issues). Anyway, I came up with the make-up idea when I saw Kai's tattooless face in the beginning of season 2 and refused to believe the triangles were facepaint. Can you imagine what shopping for make-up must have been like? (I wrote a short blurb up by **kavbj**'s response, if you want to look XP). Oh and the cake was yummy :D!

**banan:** Oh wow… this is like… the longest review EVER! And it was originally even LONGER?! Thank you so much! In appreciation, I have Kai here (gestures to shadowy figure in the corner… he refused to get closer and I was so _not_ going to drag him, especially not after the sour mood he's been in since the last chapter) to say a few words… Kai? (waits… he says nothing… I lean over and hiss something involving _'writing about you crying' _and _'shredded scarf' _and he pushes off the wall…)

Kai: (_glare_)…

Me: (_whispers_) say something!

Kai:…Hn. (_walks away_)

Ah…Ok! And that, was Kai… Ha ha… anyway, thanks for the birthday greetings! And yay! If you're addicted to reviewing that means lots of reviews, and I look forward to your reviews! Tala is going to come, just three or four more chapters!

Oh, you like my muse? Well, lemme tell you, when I wrote about Kai's cutting and not tending to them, I only wanted to show that Kai is neglecting himself, like he doesn't care if he gets hurt… but _now_ my muse is all abuzz with ideas (and yes, if you're wondering, she's already fled from a seething Kai and flaming Dranzer). Oh and 'Mindbreakers' isn't bad, ha ha, what do you think about 'Kai's-sanity-breakers'? It's somewhere in between both XD (joins in which your evil laughter). And YES I know EXACTLY what you mean about romance, it happens way too much in Beyblade stories, doesn't it? Go no romance policy!

AND NO, KAI IS NOT GOING TO GET GANGERINE AND RUN AROUND CHOPPING PEOPLE"S HEADS OFF WITH A PROSTHETIC SAW!! (although, it would be a rather… _efficient_ way to get rid of Daichi…_insert more evil laughter_)

And now to answer your second review (XP, I do the same thing with e-mails!). I admit, the bad guys are always exciting, I mean, what would you do without a good evil-maniac-plotting-to-take-over-the-world running around ruining the main characters life? (Gasp) Goodness, you might have to fall back on, god forbid, ROMANCE!... And we know that must never happen! So yeah, I agree, I like Voltaire and Boris, in that creepy, morbid way (laugh).

Really, you want to become a psychiatrist? That's coincidental, I was thinking about that too, in fact, if I end up going to Med school after finishing my degree I'll be heading towards that! But why'd you say it was unattainable?? Why, why, why?

That is so, so great that you like my story! I understand about the low self-esteem, I didn't put this story up for _ages_ (years) because I was afraid either no one would like it, or that my writing wasn't good enough… and on, and on…. Eventually the show stopped airing, and then I had nothing to loose, and there you go! You're putting a lot of pressure on me though! (laughs sheepishly, rubs back of neck) I hope I keep writing to your expectations!

You hated the cleaning part?...Well, the funny thing is that my room is currently undergoing this renovation thing, so I guess I was venting (laugh). Oh and might I suggest an air mask for your imminent genocide? Or a flamethrower? Watch out for those dustbunnies, they're cheeky little blighters (I laughed when I read this part of your review, heh, 'higher species' XD).

I don't like it when Kai freeloads off people either, and I have to say it was fun to picture Kai working as a waiter in a restaurant, the cleaning scene just happened. Oh and the make-up thing happened when I saw the beginning of season 2 (where he has no tattoos) and said: "HE IS SO WEARING MAKE-UP" then the idea was born. Oh and if you want to see a very small blurb about Kai buying make-up, it's under **kavbj**'s response XP.

And by the way, thanks, very much for telling me about that mistake I made! I really do want to know every little thing that you notice I've done wrong (I really don't mind, it helps the story!) I fixed it, by the way. Like I said at the top of the chapter, Mr. Tate was supposed to think Kai was born in Russia, but a citizen of Japan. Mr. Dickenson informed him otherwise. I didn't change chapter 1, but I changed some of chapter 6 (where Mr. Dickenson is telling Alex that Russia is not foreign to Kai). I was going to past the difference here, but the entire conversation is a bit long, so you'll have to go back to check it out, sorry!

It wasn't a big difference, but it solves the problem, I think.

Thanks again; and please tell me if you notice anything else like that!

**DancerInTheDark101:** Wow, I can't believe you read my story! I'm reading one of yours: '_Inner Fury Of Fire_' and I really like it so far (sorry I haven't left a review! I've been writing this :P). I enjoy how you made all the Demolition boys and Kai friends, although it's sad that Bryan died. And yay for Kai-torture (yes I'm a proud owner of morbid fascination as well XD). Ha, I'm getting carried away now, anyway, yes this is my first Beyblade fic (I've only written one other fanfiction, it's for Sonic the Hedgehog—I started it years ago though, so the style is completely different). However, I just updated my profile with ideas for future projects. I'll probably wait and see what stories the readers want me to write, then we'll see what happens from there, if you want, you can leave a comment as well!...yes I realize I'm shamelessly asking for reviews, but what can you do? (shrugs with a sheepish grin) Thanks for the review and I hope I keep writing to your standards!

**lady KCassandra:** Hiya! Yay, another new reviewer! I understand what you mean about Kai finding a girl, but personally I don't believe any of the girls in the series are good enough for Kai, and I wanted to keep the original characters to a minimum. I suppose it's also like what you said: I wanted to make Kai believable, and he just doesn't seem ready (or willing XD) to get into a romantic relationship. I'm glad you like my Kai, I like him too (although Kai himself thinks he was too emotional in the last chapter, it put him in a right bad mood; I've been hiding from him all day!). Anyway, thanks for favoriting me and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

**xflightofthephoenix:** Hi! Yay, you reviewed my story, and you wrote a response to my review! I know exactly what you mean about spending a lot of time thinking about what's going to happen in one's story (personally, I find myself spacing out during class, wondering what sort of torture I can put Kai through next XD). I'm glad you won't make your story revolve around romance, and I see that most of the votes were for yaoi, but I just hope you do whatever you want. Anyway, thanks for the response and I'll be waiting to see what happens to Lily!

Now to answer your review! Ha ha, I hope you didn't try to look up Sooryavansham… It's actually a Hindustani word that does in fact mean: The Dynasty of the Sun. I think I mentioned that at some point… But anyway, the title may seem a bit off for the story, but it WILL come into play, eventually. I'm glad you like the detail, sometimes when I'm writing I just keep going on, and on, and I begin to think: 'Am I just rambling incessantly?' But I know what you mean about favorite chapters. Mine are, obviously, the Kai chapters, it takes me three times as long to write the Tyson, Max and Rei chappies!

Anyway, I'm sure your next chapter will be spectacular… but you know how you said you never realized this story existed before I told you? I was wondering—it's probably superficial of me—but I really want to update my story when the most people are on Fanfiction (so that I get more reviews!). I usually update on Fridays or early Saturdays, but I'm wondering if, in your experience, there is a better time to update? Thanks for the review, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

**Keylor:** Hi! Long time no review! Yay! You totally noticed some of the smaller nuances I try to add in my chapters. For one thing, I really wanted my fic to be a continuation of the series, but I worried that placing my fic one whole year after the Russian Tournament would destroy any flow I could have had(I also wondered how I could make Kai's year-long disappearance viable). But the thing about Kai managing the team, and about him glaring at Rei were side things that I wasn't sure anyone would mention, but I'm happy you enjoyed it! Maybe at some point I'll have Mr. Tate experience Kai's death glare first hand! As for the first names… well, I think they said Mr. Dickenson's name was Stanley on the show. Mr. Granger's name I found on and as for Mr. Tate's… ah well, I have to say that I made that one up XP, but don't worry, just because I gave him an English name, doesn't mean I've forgotten that he's Japanese!

Oh and if you notice any other problems in my story, please tell me. You are right about the Tyson carrying Rei up the mountain thing, as soon as I read that part of your review I remembered… It's too bad, the conversation worked better when Tyson was the one being carried, but ah well, I changed it anyways. Also, you're right about anti-socialist, I laughed when I read that… hey, maybe Kai does have very strong political views? Who knows? But I think the word anti-socialite means someone who is very individualistic and defies social trends… So I just reworded the sentence and used the word antisocial. As for the chapter being a bit tedious, I understand, but one of my goals for this story is to include lots of little side conversations and details (for character development and such). When I get around to editing this story though, I might shorten it :P. And I admit, I try to keep OOC to a minimum, but some of it is bound to creep in while I'm not looking, but I'll try to keep a closer eye on that in the future… Although I can't vouch for Kai, he says so little in the anime we barely ever get to see his character! XD And YES, I loved your long review!

By the by, I DID say Mr. and Mrs. Huo had LEFT CHINA to come to Russia… and yet, her first language is Japanese… hmmmmm…now what significant could THAT have? As for the make-up, that idea came from when I saw the beginning of the second season, he didn't have any tattoos and that's when I thought: 'He's SO wearing MAKE-UP!'… and it was history form there (there's a very, very small blurb of Kai buying make-up under **kavbj**'s response, if you're interested…). You know, you're the first one who's mentioned the tattoo on Kai's inner wrist: five, dark, Prussian blue teardrops, nearly black, arranged in a five point star… it's definitely a tattoo, but methinks you'll have to wait awhile before you find out the significance of them… (evil chuckle) I'm glad you like Mrs. Huo, she is supposed to care about Kai and try to mother him, but he, Kai, has never had that kind of thing before, so he feels awkward and smothered around her. The reunion is coming… it's still awhile away but I promise to keep the chapters interesting!

**Adio!**


	10. The Broken Pencil

YAY! Since you guys have been sooo _patient_ (sarcastic, much?) here is Chapter 9! I've been looking forward to this!! It's a purely Kai chappy and includes action/drama and one ugly old man… or two… anyway, just read it!

Oh and don't get any ideas about me updating every week from now on! This is a one time thing people!

Reviewer responses are at the end. Oh and check out my profile! I updated it a few weeks ago, if you guys see any interesting ideas there, tell me!

**Disclaimer:** hmmm, if I owned it, why'd I be writing on the fanfiction site?? Kai isn't mine (grumbles), neither are any other Beyblade characters… I own Magnum, and the old raisin, though who knows why I'd want them.

Enjoy!

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

_After the world championships in Russia, Kai just wanted to vanish. Then one day, inevitably, Kai is drawn back and ensnared in an intricate web of magic and legends; wrought by forsaken history and controlled by none other than Voltaire. _

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"_To write with a broken pencil is pointless."_

—Pun

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**Chapter 9:** **_The Broken Pencil_**

I have just discovered something about myself: I abhor train rides. I detest them utterly, especially long ones: loath them with an unmitigated passion that rivals Tyson at a buffet. In response, I have ascertained they are not all that enamored with me either. No amount of begging, pleading or chocolate croissants will ever make friends out of us. Sighing, I lean back against the mundane, metal, stone-grey—and just as hard— train seats. My gaze drifts to look out the window. Unfortunately, I have been doing this for the better part of the last three hours and the pitch black darkness outside still has not gotten any more interesting. I should have expected as much though, this far into the heart of winter, the sun sets at five and does not rise again until sometime past eight.

Usually when I am bored I can entertain myself adequately within my own mind: recalling certain aspects of the day, mentally working on how I can better my skills in various ways, recanting past mistakes and how I should better act in the future …

Now I can't stand to see even the backs of my eyelids. Every time they fall I picture Rei, Max, Kenny and even Tyson. I can see them yelling at me, calling me traitor. I see them calling me weak, worthless. Behind them are Boris and Voltaire, laughing, always laughing. Sometimes I even see Tala, telling me I betrayed him, left him to rot in the bowels of the Abbey.

I feel Dranzer's warmth in the back of my mind; I must be projecting my thoughts quite vociferously for her to have sensed them. I snort softly. "Do not worry; I am not going to run."

I look at my hands. The real question, I think, is why I even bother going back to a life I left behind? Why do I bother when I know it will only cause more pain?

'_Because'_ I think, closing my eyes and clenching my hands into fists '_despite how much I do not want to go back, it is something I must do.'_

The life I have right now is meaningless. I burden an innocent family with my unwanted presence just because I want to hide from my past. I was perfectly happy not remembering my past before, in Japan, but now things have changed. I have almost no memories from before I turned ten, and the only way to get those memories back is to turn and confront what I've been running from: Boris and Voltaire. I must return _purpose _to my life.

"Besides," I say softly to Dranzer as I pull out her bitchip, knowing she could not have completely heard my internal dialogue, "I have to see Tala. He said that he knew me before… But we never got the chance to speak before I left. Perhaps I will gain answers from him." I do not admit it out loud, or to myself, really, that I also want to know if he survived the year.

_Now, _I put Dranzer away and look around myself, _on to the present matter._

I have been on this train for the better part of six hours, and since I neglected to check the duration of the trip—something I can be assured I will _never_ do again—I have no idea how much of the ride is left. Aside from myself, and of course, Dranzer, there is no one else in my compartment. In fact, I seriously doubt there is anyone even in the general vicinity of my cart, something that pleases me thoroughly.

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In the beginning, I had tried unsuccessfully to find an empty room; it was to my deep spleen that I kept passing full-cart after full-cart. Honestly, who travels at midnight?

The closest I could find was this compartment, which had held only a shriveled, emaciated old man. His lank, oleaginous hair was grungy and matted; unhealthy black spots, that could have been anything from liver spots to skin cancer, decorated his face and hands. A hackneyed robe was drawn about him and clutched tightly between withering fingers, as though his life lay within the folds of material. A dank, putrid smell, not unlike that of rotting meat and sour milk was salient even from where I was standing across the cabin.

He was silently seated in one corner, making strange snorting and hissing sounds between his few remaining teeth. I sat gingerly on the area of the coach furthest away, thinking this must, at the very least, be better than the cart with the rather… disturbingly passionate… newlyweds.

I regretted that decision.

For the most part, I had tried to ignore the old man, but this became increasingly impossible as his eyes latched onto me and leered openly. I glared at him, but aside from an initial cringe, he just smiled toothlessly back at me. For a second I wondered if my glares were loosing their edge, they usually worked quite effectively. But as I watched with growing disgust as drool dribbled down the man's mouth I realized that this _creature_ literally had a death wish. With nothing to loose, why should he restrain himself?

When his breaths started to get heavy and giggles—screeching, like nails on a chalkboard—were wheezed out between his gasps, it was the last straw for me.

Honestly, I wasn't scared of the old raisin, but there was a _limit_.

I sighed, got up to leave.

"P-pray, chil-child" he coughed, laughter abating. His voice, a once-deep alto, long ruined by smoke, stopped me for a second. "Don't leave an old man to fend for himself in the darkness of a harsh winter's night. Stay awhile and grant this humble man some company in his last few days… Young Master Hiwatari."

The reaction was immediate. I whirled around and in two steps I was towering over the sordid old man.

"What did you say?" I grounded out.

He just smiled back, muttering 'sit, sit…' invitingly.

I responded with a scowl, '_nothing to loose indeed if he would try to use my name in such a way.'_

For a moment I had considered forcing his mouth to stay shut. It wouldn't take much, a little _persuasion_ and he would stay quiet, maybe forever…

But, so help me, I couldn't hurt the man, no matter how much he sickened me. Instead, I glared harder at him, '_sly, devious, deceitful, contriving Machiavelli…'_

I took my seat again, crossed both my arms and legs and closed my eyes. Luckily, the man stopped his lecherous stare, or else, morals be da—damned, I would have ended his staring for him, permanently.

The word _'damned'_ stuck in my mind even as I thought it, as though I had said something wrong… something I should not. But I quickly shook off the feeling.

'_Besides, I am hardly a 'Master' anymore. I have grown enough to be called 'Lord', or perhaps even one of Grandfather's subsidiary titles, should he have one.'_

When the train had begun to pull out of the station, I let out a sigh that seemed to release some of my tension. At least the old man had not attempted to instigate any conversation and appeared, if the saliva bubbling at the corner of his mouth and his gurgling were any critic, to be asleep.

A door slammed somewhere outside my coach and loud shouts: jeering, hollering and the sound of breaking glass met my ears. I mentally groaned. Really, I should have known by now that the second things are going in my favor…

Predictably, the noise only got louder. This carriage was the last one on the train and I was well aware of the insinuations and allure of the last, bumpiest cart on the general population of street thug-wannabes. Sometimes I honestly wonder if someone up there had it in for me. Whoever it was probably spotted me the moment I was born and said: 'Hey! That one! Yeah, that kid! Let's make his life miserable! C'mon, it'll be fun!'

I had decided against moving, the confrontation was inevitable anyway. I might as well have remained comfortable in these ice cold, rock hard seats for as long as I could.

The door blasted open soon enough, smashing into the wall inches before my nose with enough force to dent the metal. The foot that had kicked the door receded and giggles erupted from the people in the threshold.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Great, I was dealing with amateurs. I watched, one eyebrow raised in detached disparagement as the group blundered into the room, staggering and tottering as they tripped over each other and the air—drunken amateurs then. They immediately headed towards the old man, who had started out of his slumber, staring about himself stupidly. He caught site of the group and trembled like a frightened rabbit. I eyed the old man dispassionately; if anything I was slightly put out, he was scared of _them_ and the best I could incite from him was a giggle? Did the world only answer to violence these days?

Having realized what I just thought, I rubbed the bridge of my nose in consternation. The strong urge to say '_duh' _overcame me but I bit it back; I really had spent too much time with the Bladebreakers.

"Yo, gramps, bea' it. Thish ish owah shpace nows." Came the drunken drivel of a 30 something American. The five cronies behind him snickered brazenly, most were Russian but there was one or two Chinese as well.

A loud yell issued from somewhere within the crowd. "Yeaa! You tell 'im Mag!"

I had watched the drama unfold in front of me not bothering to intervene. It was like a vapid play to my disinterested eye: the old man meant nothing to me; I saw no reason to help the raisin.

Strangely enough, no one noticed me at first. This struck me as odd since there were eight of us crushed into this too-small compartment, how could they not have seen me? Albeit they were utterly plastered, but even still…

And, without fail: ask and thee shall receive. Considering my earlier mental remarks on karma I should have been more guarded with my thoughts. I was just thoughtfully contemplating the distance between myself and the door, when the American turned and—guess who was in his direct line of sight? That's right; me.

"Weelll, weeelll, whada we haf heah?" He shoved his way through his men, who were only just beginning to notice the existence of another person in the coach, and smirked down at me. I stared back evenly, mentally priding myself for suppressing the urge to physically eschew his rancid breath, not to mention the thick heavy stench he exuded naturally.

"Lookhh guyzz, we'ha got'herselves ah Blue heah."

'_Blue'_

I hadn't heard that title for so long now and it hit me like a blow to my gut. Almost… no, _everyone_ in Russia is aware of the few 'elite' of the Abbey. Even Mr. and Mrs. Huo know about them. It is only once the proximity to Moskva shortens that people begin to recognize the signs: those marked by blue or red stripes, like a perverted oriflamme. Tala, too, has four red stripes. They aren't visible like mine, something for which I envied him. These marks, my very own personal identification number, were the sole reason I couldn't find a job for so long. I had to find two immigrants to live with; even then I had to hide behind _makeup_ to avoid suspicion.

"You'eh..you a seccon… _nieth_… a _fourth_" continued the man as he squinted at me. He said the ordinal number _fourth_ with surprising sobriety. I said nothing.

"C-C'mon Magum." Another man, a Russian, I note, tugs on the American's arm urgently, speaking in a frantic whisper, and I watch him lazily out of the corner of my eye, he sounds more 'dry' then his friend, at least. "L-let's git. They sayz pissed Blues are devils. A-an' he's-s a _fourth—_" My eyebrow rose as my gaze snapped to him fully and I noticed with some amusement that he flinched in fear.

'_Smart man.'_

'Magnum' shook his head wildly in denial. "NO! No, no, nononono! This ish de perfecth c'r. Theresh on'y one'er 'im, 'n…" He looked over his group trying to count the number. "tw-twel… no seben, _sev'n,_ o' us." I snorted softly. What? Had he just counted the old man as one of them?

"'Sides…" Magnum continued, his voice suddenly lewd. "He's kinda cute."

The amusement was gone. My eyes narrowed. Yes, the old raisin was definitely one of them. What was this all of a sudden? Twice in one day? I was not impressed. Couldn't they all just go be disgusting somewhere else?

Magnum flopped down on the metal seat and leaned in close.

"Sooo, hottie… wash yo' name?"

I got up abruptly and Magnum fell sideways as he overbalanced.

"One need not introduce oneself to trash." I said flatly.

Turning to walk out of the coach, I managed, perhaps, two paces before a cry of anger assaulted my ears. Letting instinct take command, I doubled over; just in time to prevent myself from being skewered in the head by a pocket knife Magnum pulled out of somewhere. One of his friends then caught me by the scarf and threw me into the wall. He, a Chinese man, held me there and screamed something in my face; something about there being 'six of them and only one of me,' only with considerably more cursing involved. Truth be told, I wasn't really listening; being, at the time, more preoccupied with trying to avoid the man's rotted breath.

Just then I had looked to the side, and that was when I noticed the old man sneaking out as we fought.

'_Sly, deceitful, contriving, __**cowardous**__ Machiavelli' _I thought, smirking slightly, not really blaming the raisin.

One of the men must have misunderstood my smirk, because he let out an animalistic snarl and threw a punch straight at my face. Faster than even my eye could follow, I broke the Chinese man's grip on me and dodged. There was a sickening crunch as the fist shattered on the metal and the man attached to it let out a howl; he probably broke a finger, or his thumb. He should learn not to keep his thumb tucked into his fist when he punches.

I straightened, and to my irritation, everyone was now pulling out knives around me. A few annoyed mental comments, and a few muttered ones, later, I settled into a familiar fighting stance.

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'**;**.**;**'

* * *

Anyway, I had made quick work of them, with each gaining a new, _painful_ memory to 'remember' me by. Especially Magnum. As I literally threw them into the hall they scrambled away from me, kicking, screaming and tripping over one another in their haste.

Sighing, I had headed back into my coach, moving to close the door behind me. But huddling in the wake of the closing door was another surprise.

The old man, rolled into a protective ball, cowered away from me.

I couldn't suppress the evil grin that crossed my face.

Swooping down, I caught his robe in my fist. He squealed as he was bodily lifted from the ground, meeting me eye to eye. I snarled and he squeaked.

Good.

'_Finally, a reaction, I was beginning to wonder if I'd lost my touch.'_

I shook him. "You. Do. Not. Know. Me." I grounded out, each word punctuated by a shake.

He shook so hard my entire arm vibrated. So I pushed him up against a wall, his feet still dangling a few inches off the ground.

"Y-y-ye-ye-y-ess, YES!" He had spluttered senselessly.

Mentally, I rolled my eyes. _Idiot._ Was he agreeing with me, or was he being insolent enough to confirm his knowledge? I slammed him on the wall again to get him to elaborate and his tongue seemed to unstick from the roof of his mouth.

"I-I don't know you! I DON'T KNOW YOU!" He shrieked.

I dropped him and he scuttled away, pushing past me so roughly in his blind panic, one of his ratty nails scratched my arm; he stumbled to the ground, running away on all fours.

"Good."

'_Well, he asked for it.'_

Soon rumor had spread that in the last compartment of the train resided a 'red-eyed demon'—if I had heard quote properly between the screaming—and before I knew it everyone was avoiding the general area like the plague.

At the time, I had just shrugged. '_Works for me'_

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'**;**.**;**'

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So, basically that is how the trip has been progressing so far, and now I am sitting here, enjoying my privacy... and completely bored out of my mind. At least those pseudo-thugs made for good entertainment. I cannot go so far as to say they gave me a workout because that simply is not true.

That point however, brings up another disturbing question. I bring one of my hands in front of my face, leaving the other behind my head. I stare first at the palm, then the back of it.

Where did I learn how to fight?

My hand falls and I look instead at my reflection in the window. I can't remember Gran-Voltaire teaching me, so from whom did I learn?

Reaching into one of my flap pockets on the side of my jeans I draw out a small black leather-bound book. Flipping it in my hand I consider it carefully; having owned it since I was nine, it holds quite a museum of painful _memoria_.

Not quite a journal, and not quite a sketchbook, it has remained as something in between. When I was younger I used to get painful flashes of memory from a time I could not remember. Having absolutely no idea how to deal with them, and wanting them to go away, I had done the only thing that worked: draw a picture, or write a little paragraph on them then forget it ever happened. Then one day, the flashes just stopped and my entries grew few and far apart.

I have never looked back at an entry; every page bringing its own nightmare.

But now… I want to know, right? That is why I am going to Moskva. This book could hold some answers and every little bit helps…right?

Before I pull it open however, my fingertips skim over the faded gold writing on the front, barely visible from all the wear, but still there: a year, dated 7 years prior, written in Japanese. The book had been an agenda. I had not known that when I first received it.

I was only nine at the time. I had just arrived in Japan…

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'**;**.**;**' _Flashback _'**;**.**;**'

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"Uh, I hate this place!" I yell in frustration.

"_Daijoubu desu ka?"_ Asks ANOTHER person, he looks at me strangely, as though he really wants to run away.

I nearly scream.

"I don't KNOW what you're SAYING! WHAT ARE YOU SAYING!?" I cry out, waving my arms.

The person backs away, then turns and walks away fast.

'_Great'_ I fall against a wall. '_I just want some help… why is it so hard?'_

I grab my hair with my right hand. '_Why can't I understand anything? Why can't anyone understand me? What's going on? Where am I?…Who... who am I?'_ There's a sting in my eyes and a strange sound escapes my throat but I brush it away, it feels wrong.

I look up. There are so many people here, why can't any of them help me? I try to think if I know anyone…

No. I grab my head again as it hurts, and let out a pained cry as burning pain sears my left hand... I had forgotten about that. I quickly rap the old rag I had picked up off the ground around the arm again...

The last thing I remember is that boat and hiding in that box.

Why was I hiding?

I look at myself, all I'm wearing is a shirt and pants, and this weird necklace… nothing to say who I am. I shake my head back and forth.

I can't remember, _I can't remember!_

"_Daijoubu desu ka?_"

"Argh! Just leave me ALONE!" I glare meanly at the woman and she frowns, says some nonsense, then pulls her kid away. Immediately I feel sorry. "No, wait!" I call. But she's gone. I feel sad, she looked nice…

Another person sees me and walks away, it seems like he had wanted to go in the place behind me…

"Ah, you Russian speak, yes? Come." I jump. _I understand that! _Looking behind me I see an old man with a stick, he's bent over, but I'm still shorter, so I look up at him.

"You understand me? Russian, is that what I'm speaking? Can you tell me who I am?" I ask him really fast. The bent man sighs.

"I can… to understand you, no. To follow me you now." He says. It sounds so strange, I hardly understand him. I frown a little, why does it sound like he's plugging his nose? I blink then and he goes into the building, so I follow.

It takes a long time to explain stuff to the bent man. He didn't understand me, and pulled out this big book. I don't know what he called it. I looked at it but didn't understand anything. He said it was Russian and Japanese, but written down. I didn't get it, so he looked at it himself. I had to explain a few times, but finally he gets everything I am saying and gives me a pencil and book.

He brings me to the door again.

"You to write what you to remember in book." He points to me then the book. I nod eagerly, maybe if I do what he says he'll let me stay, I'm kind of hungry…

We step outside and I bound out in front of him happily, I found a new friend! It couldn't matter THAT much that I didn't know how to write!

"You will teach me Japanese, right?" I ask him, now I know that's what people here speak.

The man laughs and I smile too.

"You joke, boy!" He laughs; my head goes to the side a bit, '_what does he mean?'_ I think he got a little better at talking, but he still sounds all nose-ish.

"I to help you because you customers scare. Now I go. You leave here. Out."

The door slams and hits me on the nose, I cry out, jumping backwards.

'_W-wh-what?'_ I rub my hurt nose a little. I don't understand. What happened?

I shake a little as I softly knock on the door.

"Sir? Sir, please open the door, sir?" My knocking gets louder as I begin to understand… No, no!

"SIR! SIR!" I pound on the door as hard as I can. NO! He didn't leave me, he _couldn't!_

"No…" I falter and fall against the door. I'm sobbing, and the tears finally fall.

"N-no." A whine escapes my mouth and I quickly cover it as more sounds follow. People are looking at me strangely now, and they're not nice people like before. It's all dark out… I'm hungry… scared…

I huddle into the door, the last bit of light I can see coming from the building. But then it's gone, and all I can see is the dark.

* * *

'**;**.**;**' _End Flashback _'**;**.**;**'

* * *

That was how it all started. I kept the book; it was after all, the first material thing someone had given me. In the beginning though, my illiteracy prevented me from writing; later, I was just too embarrassed. Instead, I found myself drawing images from my dreams. I would draw on the clear white back of the page, since the front had ruled lines for the passing days. Later, I wrote down Japanese quotes that intrigued me and pieces of Russian poetry as I remembered them, which, more often than not, were hymns, oddly enough. It was only during the last few years that I began to write actual entries. Even then they were mostly snippets of dreams, which I forgot as the day went along. I wrote in whichever language was convenient at the time, since as time progressed I made sure I would never again be limited in the language I spoke.

By far though, my favorite expression has always been drawing, the quality of the pictures slowly improving through each year. It could take any amount of time, from hours to weeks to months for me to finish a single drawing, everything had to be perfect before I would turn the page and forget it existed. That fact, coupled with my small writing is probably why the book still has space left in it.

Slowly, I pull open the first page,

—and am met with a mass of scratches.

I remember that picture. It had started out as Dranzer, back when I did not know she was real and she merely existed in my mind as 'the mysterious bird in my dreams.' As a nine year-old with no recollection of how to even hold a pencil I could not draw the phoenix as I had wanted. After erasing and erasing until the eraser was quite nonexistent, I scratched up the page and tossed away the book—I literally threw it into the other end of the alley I was staying in. I did not touch the thing for months until I finally gathered the will to try again. By then the pencil was ruined, so I had to find another. I had sat down, and tongue caught between teeth, seriously committed myself to the picture. I never did tear out the first version though.

Turning the page, I find, just as I expected, a picture of Dranzer, dated half a year after the first mess. This one was not perfect by far: the wings were too large, the head too small and the feathers were little more than little uneven half circles.

But I had kept the picture; for the sole reason that there had been something in the eyes I had liked. As I look at them now, they seem to shine, looking straight at me just as the real Dranzer does and I find that I still feel the same way.

Turning my eyes to the page opposite I see my first attempt at writing, and I quickly flip the page.

I stiffen. Even with the lack of artistic detail, the person in the picture is obvious: the stance too familiar, the hair too untamed and the grin too cocky.

_Tala._

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****

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**_End Chapter Nine_…**

**… _To Be Continued_**

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Now, if anyone is wondering why so many people kept asking if Kai was ok ("_Daijoubu desu ka?_" means "Are you ok?" in Japanese)—and not ignoring him like most people ignore homeless people or beggars—I think it's because Kai looked as though he was a lost child… plus he was just too cute for anyone to ignore! Now for all you wonderful reviewers!

**valenciadarkness:** Hello! Thanks for reviewing. Now don't get me wrong, I actually like Kenny. My aim with his character is to show how a relatively introverted intellect would feel self-conscious and underappreciated when he is surrounded by extroverted "jocks" (as he sees them). His thoughts run away with him, he doesn't mean what he says, he's only upset that Dizzy is taking away the one thing he was always good at (facts, data and such). I'm glad you like the story so far though, and it might take awhile, but Kenny does have his one part to play!

**Canyx:** I know exactly what you mean by being too lazy to sign in, I do that all the time :P. I'm glad you like my story though and yeah, us Beyblade fans do tend to stick together. I noticed that whenever I review a story it's usually always the Beyblade story writers that respond! I wonder what that means? Oh, and thanks for reviewing!

**wolf's lament:** I'm glad you like most of the accents, and I guess in a way it's good that you think Enrique's is annoying, since he is kind of supposed to be an annoying guy XP Kai's tattoos will be important, especially the five teardrops on his inner wrist. And as for Mr. Granger… well, let's just say I have side stories for ALL my main characters :D

**kavbj:** Yay! I worked really hard on those accents so I'm really, really happy you like them! And it IS terrible that the Majestics don't care about Kai! The 15 thing was just Rei getting worried, and to remind people how old Kai is. It's terrible about your computer though, I hope you get it fixed! And I hope you don't loose anything! My computer is always slowing down or freezing, nothing comes up on virus-scan, but I wonder if it does have something, but I don't want it to get wiped, so I just keep ignoring it XD… Hope you enjoyed the chappie, and review soon! I love reading your reviews! They're so much fun:P

**UNpReDiCtAbLE lIfE:** Hah, I guess it's ok if you didn't read Hilary's speech, as long as you still liked the chapter! Oh and Happy belated Birthday! (Even though I have no idea how late I am with this:D). Heh heh, is your inner Hilary telling you school's important? Well, you're in luck, I've managed to write a bit ahead, I need to proof read the chapters but I think the updating should stay pretty regular! Oh, and I'm sorry if the Majestics' way of speaking was a bit hard to read, but I don't think they'll be too prominent, so… yeah. Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chappie!

**lady KCassandra:** Kudos to trying to create a good non-Mary Sue original female character. I dislike Mary-Sues to the extreme (they're like self insertions, when the author doesn't want to admit it's a self insertion). I'm also not a great fan of yaoi, but I see how at least half of the beyblade fans out there are yaoi fans, so I'll probably stick with a generally no romance theme. Thanks for the compliments; I'll try to keep this story as original as I can. The only other thing I have to say is that all my chapter lengths are predetermined, independent of the author's notes. I reserve the right to respond to all my reviewers and I prefer to do it in the chapter so I can respond to my anonymous reviewers as well. Anyway, thanks for the long review! And yes, Daichi sucks XD

**Mikao6:** Hi! And yes! The Demolition Boys are coming, as you can see from the end of this chapter! As for Mr. Granger… well, lets just say he wasn't coughing because of Mr. Tate's comment ;)

**xflightofthephoenix:** Wow, you know, it really makes taking the time and effort to write worth every moment when even one person says it affects how they write. Thank you very much, you made my day! Your ideas for Kai's tattoos are _interesting_… hmmmm, I'm going to have to think about that XD. I admit that I already know what I'm going to do with Kai's tattoos, but your ideas have got me thinking… we'll have to see, won't we? ;) Oh, and guess what? It only took me a week to update!

**phoenix-falling:** Lol! Your review made me laugh! And it was probably the main reason why this chapter came out so quick (but please don't expect me to update every week from now on! I don't think I could handle it with school heating up :P) I hope I didn't cause any more evil scowls from your brother (I was going to write 'glare' instead of 'scowl' but… really, only Kai can _really_ glare XD) I'm really, really glad you liked that chappie though, 'cause a lot of people weren't happy with the accents and stuff. The reunion is still a few chapters away…don't kill me! You want all the details and back story, right? And… wait-a-minute, you found BLUE PITTER-BREAD?! What's PITTER-BREAD?! And it was BLUE?!... Ok, wait… somehow; I don't think I really want to know…O.O

**FlamingIce94:** Yay! You liked the accents! That's great! I worked really hard on those, but I wasn't sure if people would like them, as it is, I got both good and bad reviews on them, but ah well! The trials of a fanfiction author… but I'm glad you liked them! Hilary's history lesson was both fun and a pain to do (if that's possible XD), I was learning about Russia and the Bolshevik revolution at the time, but you're right, I did have to do some research… heh. Really? The make-up shopping blurb was that funny? XD I kinda just spontaneously came up with it :P. Anyway, Thanks for the review! And here's your update!

**Keylor: **Isn't Tyson always a handful though:P Anyway, I agree completely, Kenny IS underappreciated, and _something_ might happen eventually if the Bladebreakers don't start acknowledging the poor little guy! As for the accents, well, I thought they added my own little spin to the Majestics. I know that in the anime everyone spoke perfect English, but one of my pet hobbies is learning different languages, I had fun making the accents for the Majestics, so even if it doesn't stick with the consistency of the show… well, I guess I can take refuge under the 'It's Fanfiction!' banner…:D Oh, and I think the Majestics can have polite/cordial mannerisms and STILL have accents! I thought I did make Robert aristocratic and Oliver soft and mild… But, moving on, the reunion is still a few chapters away, sorry, but I don't want to rush the story :)

**juut Telcontar:** Thanks! I tried hard on those accents (although I admit, they might be a little wrong, but they're close I think, and they're fun! XD). I'm also trying to make the story realistic, I agree with you about the 'America with another name' or… in my case, Canada :) I guess setting and culture usually get mislaid in the pursuit of fast-paced storylines! Oh and I also agree with the languages thing, and I think Kai agrees too (after this chapter! Lol). I really couldn't resist putting at least one: '_Daijoubu desu ka?'_ in there, probably because I had no idea what it meant the first time I read it and I wanted Kai to experience that! (Evil grin) Oh and Mr. and Mrs. Huo will show up again, it might just take awhile. You know, it _would_ be fun if the others saw Kai without his make-up on… hmmm… And by the way, your name _is_ interesting (I've read Lord of the Rings, but I didn't remember that part about Aragorn :P) My name, Sholay, means 'Ember' in Hindustani… ha, talk about flinging around words in languages no one understands XD. Anyway, here's the update! And thanks for the review!

**d1bontemp:** Hee hee, here's the update, but the suspense continues, the reunion is still a ways away...(evil grin). Thanks for reviewing!

**Adio!**


	11. Tyson's Craving

**Chapter 10**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Beyblade, or the Guys in White for that matter…

Enjoy, and review please! I accept anonymous reviews too, and I know there are a lot of you out there who are reading this and not reviewing!

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

_After the world championships in Russia, Kai just wanted to vanish. Then one day, inevitably, Kai is drawn back and ensnared in an intricate web of magic and legends; wrought by forsaken history and controlled by none other than Voltaire. _

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"_Unbidden guests are often welcomest when they _

_are_ _gone"_

—Shakespeare (1564-1616)

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**Chapter 10: ****_Tyson's Craving_**

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'**;**.**;**' _…Hours Later, at the Hotel_

* * *

Tyson lay awake in his bed. No matter what he did he couldn't get to sleep. He sighed.

'_I don't get it'_ he internalized. '_I ate, the bed's comfy, I'm tired but I just can't get to sleep.' _He turned over again and again, but eventually gave the whole thing up as a bad job and sat up straight in his bed.

"Argh!" The boy shook his shoulder length navy hair, sparing a moment to fondly recall his lost ponytail before his mind returned to the matter at hand. He knew what was bothering him, but being too stubborn to admit it he shook his head and threw himself back on the bed wildly.

Unbidden a memory surfaced, completely unrelated, but somehow fitting for the moment. Tyson squeezed his eyes shut.

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'**;**.**;**' _Flashback… Tyson's Point of View… _'**;**.**;**'

* * *

Urgh.

I'm tired. Not just tired, but, like, tired to the _bone_…

Eh, guess I shouldn'ta watched that last hour… or three… of _The Guys in White _and _The Guys in White II: Return of the Dirty Blob_ last night…

"OY! Ty! Hurry up! Let's get some breakfast!"

My head snaps up at the mention of food. Yum, I'm hungry. Not really getting anywhere with my bed anyway, I forget about it and run to the door.

But something snags on my feet and instead I'm on the ground, bed sheets tangled all around my ankles

I whine at the delay and quickly get myself out of the sheets. I'm a little worried at the loud thump I made when I fell, and half expect someone, maybe Gramps, to come up the stairs, worrying if I'm ok.

No one comes. No one yells up to see if I'm ok, something sticks in my throat then and I swallow. Suddenly I have a craving for something. Then I remember breakfast and dash down the stairs two at a time.

After eating (blueberry pancakes, french toast, fruit and sausages, mm!) Everyone decides they want to go out and look around. I agree eagerly, even suggest that we might find some challengers. And I am excited about going out, I really am, but as we are leaving I get that strange feeling all over again.

I look behind me, and lag behind. I don't remember forgetting anything, I ate enough…what…?

"Tyson."

I heard my name and look up. I had fallen a bit behind, maybe Max, or Rei—

"O-oh." It's _KAI_! Oh man, of all people…

I wait a second for him to say something, but he doesn't! What do I do? Urgh, I fidget, and look around: down, to the side—anywhere except his face. His eyes are BORING through me, boy he's scary!

"Alright, alright, I'm coming! So-orry!" I say in a rush, but the 'sorry' still comes out a bit saucy, I hope he didn't catch it. I wish he'd just turn, or move, so we can leave. Can't I just slip around him?

I see him raise an eyebrow and quickly stop trying to inch around him.

"Wha-at?" Now I'm annoyed. Why won't he just let me pass? I'll never get this guy, he's so cold and strange…doesn't he usually call me Granger, though?

He grunts and shakes his head slightly (why?) and turns to go, just barely missing whacking with his twin scarves as they twist to follow him

… Wait…uh-oh…

Argh! Stupid! Stupid, stupid! I forgot the thing I wanted to ask him. Last night, I wanted to know…

"Eh-uh-wai-wait!" I cringe at how my voice wavers, the only language this guy speaks includes strong orders. But…at least he turns…but he's crossing his arms so I'd better make it quick.

"L-Look umm… do you know if—uhh… y'know…um… our… will Mr. D…uh…" I scuff my feet feeling as though I was very small, in an even smaller corner. So I don't know how to say this, geez! Is it so wrong?!

"Look," I try again, talking a deep breath. "I was wondering if relatives could, well, visit…" My voice trails off, "or something… or y'know, just maybe, like—"

"You got no sleep last night."

"Wh-what!?" I splutter. _'How did he know?!'_ If the change in topic wasn't bad enough, did he just HAVE to make such a fast, stutter-free statement!

"SO?" I add… once I can think again. I'm upset he's ignoring my question.

"You're homesick."

"I—WHAT? NO! I—uh—I just wanna know what—if—"

"Quiet."

And I am.

For a few seconds no one says anything. I fidget again: with my fingers, my shirt, anything. But I can't stay quiet for long.

"Ok, ok," I agree now, not looking at him "maybe a little. But you can't blame me! I've never traveled alone. Rei lived with a clan, but he's been going around forever! Max's dad works, so he's alone all the time… and you! You're like some crazy loner dude, so you don't care!"

_'Uh-oh… That came out wrong.'_ But I've already moved on.

"I mean, I work with my Grampa in the dojo, so he's always there. We do lots of stuff together, he trains me, sometimes I don't listen, but then he just whacks me over the head with his shinai. But he's still really nice, and he makes reeeallly good fish, and—"

I'm rambling now… and to KAI OF ALL PEOPLE!!

But he IS listening… I think. Oh man, he must think I'm such an idiot now!

"But I'm not completely pathetic!" I blurt out. Oops, didn't mean to say that. Now I hafta explain.

"I mean we live together without anyone else, my brother moved away; even my dad isn't home often, hasn't been home often… since mom… died." I say the last part slowly. I didn't mean to say it, it kinda just flowed out. Actually, I like to think Kai stiffened a little when I said that, but I dunno, he's a pretty stiff guy even when he's relaxed... like… never.

I wait, and wait, but he STILL DOESN'T SAY ANYTHING! I'm so embarrassed. I need to get out of here.

"Look, Kai, sorry, kay? I never meant to—I never said anything, okay?"

I manage to get by him and grab the door—

"Stop."

–and freeze.

I turn and look downwards, not wanting to see a glare. He starts to talk.

"As much as I am loathed to admit; Max, Rei, you and I are a team now. We are in this together."

I hear a sigh and then a firm "Look at me."

Painfully, I drag my eyes upward to his face. I'm surprised. He doesn't look angry or anything, just serious, as though he understand what I'm saying.

"Rei and Max are your teammates. They are your family now. It is surprising even, how much they act like brothers already. For instance—" his eyes move off to the side and I get a strange feeling that he's uncomfortable talking like this. He's being…almost _nice_. My eyes tingle and I realize I'm staring. I blink.

"—they worried when you fell down upstairs."

That sentence shouldn't affect me as much as it does, but I am so happy! Someone noticed, and cared! I grin widely.

"REALLY!?"

But the moment had passed and Kai's eyes harden to ice, like his voice.

"Either you learn to live as a team, or pack up and go home. As you are, you are a liability."

OH, HOW DARE HE!?

Angry, so angry, at him, I fume as he strides by and through the door.

"You think you're all that, don't you?" I mutter darkly and stalk out the door after him.

The rest of the day passed; we met Kevin and Mariah in the alley and came back tired, but happy. We won!

What I didn't realize at the time was that that initial anger drove my homesickness completely out of my mind. The thought of home barely crossed my mind, and even then only enough to register how proud Grandpa would have been of me that day, as I collapsed into the bed roll.

* * *

_—**Days After the Victory in the Asian Tournament**—_

* * *

"Ty-suuun!"

"Yeah, yeah, Maxie, I'm comin'"

"Tyson! You've had enough eggrolls! We have to leave, now or we'll be late for the closing ceremonies!"

"Okaay, Rei, just one more—"

"No! Rei, help me here!"

I feel my arms grabbed and the table is getting farther and farther away.

I struggle a little, "No! C'mon guys, I'm still hungry! I have a craving for—"

"Fool."

I stop struggling for a moment and look to my left to see Kai.

"What you crave" He walks by me, tugging on one of his scary arm things, "you cannot find here. Stop being a liability to your team." Strangely enough the words don't seem to hurt me.

Rei and Max glare at his retreating figure and look like they're gonna yell something, but I stop them.

Kai is right. I had missed my Grandfather's presence at the tournament but I asked Mr. D and he said Gramps could come along for the next one.

"C'mon guys, he's right. Let's go!" Max and Rei look at me stunned and both say they don't think I'm a liability. They stand on either side of me too, just like brothers.

For a moment I think back to when Kai had passed me. I though I saw a bit of red on his fingers as he pulled up his thingy. But I was probably imagining things and ignored it.

After the reception though, I couldn't help but wonder why Kai never included himself when he was talking making a new family, or acting like a team. I promised to ask him later.

… But I never did

* * *

'**;**.**;**' _End Flashback… End Tyson's Point of View… _'**;**.**;**'

* * *

"I can't believe I didn't even notice he was missing." He mumbled to himself.

"Max? Rei? You guys awake?" Tyson looked to his side at Max's bed, but it was empty. He then looked forward to the sofa-bed where Rei was supposed to sleep. No one was there.

"Guys?" He asked and got no answer.

The fourteen-year old swung himself off his bed and, using the moonlight, he carefully padded his way across the dark room to the door. Slipping into the hallway he passed the adult's room, then Kenny and Hilary's room. The sleeping arrangement was only temporary since they had basically chosen the fist bed they'd seen, but that wasn't important right now. Tyson barely spared the other doors a glance as he swept by and arrived at a shadowed staircase.

Tyson peered over the stained wooden banister and noticed a soft orange glow coming from one of the rooms on the landing below him. Stepping gingerly onto the stairs, he suppressed a shudder as the cold wood stung at his feet.

Once at the bottom, the boy was relieved to step back onto the carpet and continued towards the glow, realizing that it had come from a fireplace.

Looking at his feet and letting them guide him, he found his way to a cushy armchair and fell into it.

The silence was thunderous as it echoed in Tyson's ears. He was unable to even form the simplest of coherent thoughts, but luckily someone else did it for him:

"I never even realized he wasn't there. I thought he was being himself: cold and distant."

Tyson looked up and met the saddened eyes of Max, who had spoken, then shifted his gaze to look at Rei who was gazing off to the side somewhere, fingers steepled under his nose. He hadn't been all that surprised to see that they were here but had been comforted that he hadn't been the only one unable to sleep.

Rei laughed dryly, without humor. "We never even asked him why he acted that way."

"He trained us to be the best; hell, we became the best because of him." Tyson added; his throat very tight. His head was lowered and his dark blue eyes were shadowed by his bangs.

"I wonder where he is right now."

* * *

—**Meanwhile, hundreds of kilometers away on a train headed towards Moscow—**

* * *

'_I'm coming guys. You probably never want to see me again, but I'm coming anyway.'_

* * *

—**At the same time, in a large stone Abbey on the outskirts of Moscow—**

* * *

"Are you certain he will come, Lord?"

"I am. His weaknesses still control him."

"We will have to correct that, won't we, Lord?"

"Indeed, he cannot be allowed to escape us this time. I never make the same mistake twice."

"He will be ours, sir."

"Make sure of it, or you will pay the price with your head."

In the shadows, a figure listened to the two people talk. At the noise of shuffling feet the figure quickly darted away; flaming red hair blinked in the moonlight, then was gone. Flying down the corridor, feet gliding over the stones with only a whisper of air, the only sound: a soft spoken word escaping the figure's lips:

"Kai... "

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**_End Chapter Ten…_**

**_… To Be Continued_**

_"don't you regret you met me" _

— Sum 41_ Open Your Eyes_

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Ok! Honestly, I can't remember for the life of me if Tyson's Grandfather was at the Asian Tournament or not (although I have a sneaking feeling that he was). So for the sake of the fanfiction, he was NOT at the Asian tournament…

And for you reviewers:

**FlamingIce94:** It's too bad you didn't think the last chapter was exciting, I thought it was when I was writing it, I hope you liked this chapter better :P And as for Tala… hmmm… well, I can't give anything away now can I? So you like the BBxTT idea? Ok, that's one of the ones I prefer too; I'll probably be letting this story progress further before I start another story, or at least wait until the term ends… but I'll keep that in mind. Thanks for the input!

**sunnyhoney98765: **Are you kidding? I LOVE long reviews! They make me a happy author XD So, you like Mr. and Mrs. Huo? That's really good, I was afraid that people wouldn't be receptive to original characters (since I myself usually am not). But their story is not over, so you'll have to wait and see! And you're reading the quotes?! Yay! I had no idea anyone read them, so I just put them up for my amusement, yes the Mark Twain one _was _funny, wasn't it:P To answer your questions: 'Daijibou desu ka?' is Japanese for "Are you ok?" and my penname "Sholay" as well as the title of the story "Sooryavansham" (pronounced **Soo**-riuh-vuhn-shum) are both Hindustani for "Ember" and "The Dynasty of the Sun" respectively :) You like languages too? They're my pet hobby! I have this shelf of dictionaries in my room, which is fun ;P You're asking for my favorite? Ohh, I don't know! There are too many to choose from! Maybe Hindi? Or French? Or Russian? And as for writing, maybe Hindi or Arabic (yeah, the Arabic script is very graceful). Anyway, sorry, but the reunion is still a ways away, but I hope you enjoyed the update! Please review again!

**Bluishorbs: **Hey, I like the penname, at first I looked at it and thought: 'Huh, I wonder what that means?' Then I looked again and got it… yeah, sad, I know XP. Anyway here's the chapter, hope you enjoyed!

**Miako6:** Nope nope, Tala isn't dead, Kai is just surprised that his picture is in the journal; now why _is_ Tala's picture in the journal?… And as for the old guy… hmmm… how DID he know who Kai was?? I'm glad you like the journal, but I'm not too sure of its future in this story, ah well, we'll see!

**kavbj:** Yay! Long review! So you're going overseas? In the middle of school? Shocking! Tell me how it goes, and I hope you have/had fun! Yay! You liked the chapter! (I got mixed responses for that one, it's too bad, I thought that chapter was exciting!) And my goal was to make the drunken man detestable and the old raisin disgusting, so I succeeded! Yay! (Although I'm not quite sure if that's a _good _thing, heh) And Kai got to beat someone up, which was fun! XD Oh and as for the old guy who gave 9-year-old Kai the book, well, until he shows up again, let's say he's been on _extended_ leave… to Antarctica… heh heh. That thing with your friend made me laugh! It's so believable though! I can so see myself looking blankly into the air wondering "Huh, what duck?" I hope you enjoyed the chapter, more Kai up next! (and Tala, maybe, possibly, probably, hypothetically, emphatically… ok, I'll stop now :P)

**Keylor:** Hah, I'll try not to drag, but what might seem to me as perfectly well paced, might be unreasonably slow to everyone else…so (_shrugs_) I'll try :) I see your point about the beginning of the chapter being a bit florid, I'll admit that some of it is my fault (I started writing this fic when I was 12 (goodness, that was a _long_ time ago!), then I left it for years before returning only recently) so some past childishness in the writing may seep through; I edited it, but I'm a somewhat biased editor :P However, some of it is intentional. Kai has a very good reason for being overly wordy, even in his narration or thoughts… You'll see, eventually. Thanks for the compliments though! The fight was a fun part to write (the inner monologue was added as an afterthought, I thought it would make Kai more detached and scornful of the thugs' pathetic attempt, honestly, no one can take down Kai! XD). Also, I hope you liked the little change in POV I tried in this chapter; it will probably show up in future chapters too… So you liked "The Abbey"? Okay, I have a little written for that, but like you said, I probably won't be posting any new stories just yet (not until my school term is over, or at least, not until I reach the reunion!). Thanks for the input though, I'll keep that in mind!

**lady KCassandra:** YES! I agree! Kai definitely does NOT wear face paint! Honestly, he is totally not the kind of guy who would do that (although make-up is not quite below him XP). I'm really glad you liked the chapter, and the fight (I like making Kai beat up people (sighs dreamily in a fangirlish way) is that wrong? _Kai: (grumble) yes; Me:D_) Anyway, thanks, and I hope you liked the chapter!

**phoenix-falling:** Hah ha! Actually, English IS my first language! I'm a born and raised Canadian, believe it or not (which, incidentally, most people don't when they meet me :P). However, my parents both knew multiple languages before learning English (like French and Gujrati) which is where I pick up most of my language interests (that, and the odd British accent my friends say I occasionally have… honestly, how can someone _sometimes _have an accent?). But anyway, you lie! You're writing is so good, I don't know what you're talking about! _10 Miles In Your Shoes_ is an amazing fic, and I can't wait for your next update!

**Adio! And review! Just click on that little blue button, I'll even be happy with one word reviews! Remember, reviews keep me a happy author, and happy authors keep consistent update schedules!**

* * *


	12. Never Happened

Hiya, **Chapter 11** for your pleasure.

**Disclaimer:** _Munjo nayi (I don't own it)_

**WARNING!** This is where the rating comes into effect: **PG-13** for: bad **language**, **violence** and **mature themes**. **Nothing graphic**. Don't say I didn't warn you.

To** sunnyhoney98765** please read my response at the end of the chapter before making any judgments on this chapter, I will explain my reasoning there, thanks!

Enjoy!

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

_After the world championships in Russia, Kai just wanted to vanish. Then one day, inevitably, Kai is drawn back and ensnared in an intricate web of magic and legends; wrought by forsaken history and controlled by none other than Voltaire. _

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'**;**.**;**'

"_HC SVNT DRACONES" (Here be dragons)_

— Lenox Globe (ca. 1503-07)

'**;**.**;**'

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**Chapter 11:** **_Never Happened_**

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'**;**.**;**' .. _Flash_... '**;**.**;**'

* * *

Breakfast: the worst damn meal of the day. At least at dinner you've got a night of sleep to look forward to. At breakfast all you have is another long day of _arduous _training. Mentally I nod. Good, I can use that word in a sentence. At least I'll be prepared if it's in the lesson today, although, I'll probably have to think of a better complementary noun…

As I enter the large cafeteria I look around quickly, trying to pinpoint a nice, secluded table for myself. Spotting one, I grab a tray of food (I don't bother looking at it, they're all the same anyways) and make my way over, dodging bodies and outstretched legs as I go.

Finally, reaching it before anyone else, I place the tray on the table then plop down in front of it. With effort, I manage to dig my spoon in the sticky stuff and then level it to my eye. It looks like a cross between grey mud and colorless porridge, I decide. Hunger driving away any disgusted feelings I could have, I quickly shove the metal spoon in my mouth scraping the stuff off it with my teeth—and nearly gag as it sticks to the roof of my mouth then slowly slides down my throat in a slimy trail.

Gah. It's disgusting. But I don't dare to cough or even let myself look like I hate the food. Glancing to the side I see at least 4 or 5 guards near me, and many more around the room. I'm not crazy enough to cross _them_, the food might be bad, but the punishment for wasting it was worse than the yucky aftertaste.

Besides… I look back down at the stuff—considering it and then toss the spoon in again—I'm really hungry, and I don't think I'm going to eat again today after this…

I will never get used to this. I mean, I've been at the abbey for practically a whole year now; I'm almost 7 years old! Some of the boys here that age are already happy or at least comfortable being here. Why is it so hard for me?

Halfway through the goop, I notice someone is standing above me: there's a big shadow over me and my food.

'_Ah, no, not these bastards; not today'_ I plead silently. '_I just got through one of Boris' 'sessions' yesterday'._

The gods are not merciful _(hah, I knew I could use that word)_ however, and I hear the boy give a dark chuckle.

"Well, well, what do we have here? Stuck-up rich-boy's actually eating breakfast with us!" He cried.

"That's a surprise," His friend added. "After Master Boris pulled him out of training yesterday I was sure he'd be off pigging out on some fancy high-class food or something, sucking up to the Director like a real a—" I ignored the rest of his foul, and rather unimaginative, sentence.

I sigh and put down my spoon. I then turn my eyes upward in what I hope is a passive stare as I look at the boys in front of me.

Vasili, Spencer and Bryan, common bullies here. It really shouldn't have been such a big problem, but they are each 2 to 4 years older than me, effectively dwarfing my small frame. I don't say anything back to them. There isn't really any point. Pleading only makes them angrier anyways, and then the shit would _really_ hit the fan.

"You think you're so much better then us; don't you, runt?" Barks Vasili angrily. He leans down until his face is close to mine.

'_Not really, actually right now I wouldn't mind being you,'_ I answer mentally, painfully shifting my body off an aching bruise. I don't say anything out loud though and I look away.

"Well?! Answer me!" I give a violent jump as the boy brings a fist down hard on the table, upsetting the tray and throwing my grey porridge all over himself and inevitably (another word from my list!) me as well.

"Now look what you did, you bitch!" He snarls and before I know it, he's punched me. The satisfaction at my progress through my vocabulary list is completely thrown out of my mind.

I'm thrown off the chair from the force of the punch and bite my lip as my hip strikes the floor painfully. I can't stop a hiss of pain that passes through my teeth.

'_Ah, FUCK'_ I swear to myself, remembering forcibly how Boris had kicked me there the day before. The other boys stand over me jeering; by now over half of the entire cafeteria is watching. They step towards me and I back away on all fours.

"Look," Spencer sneers, "Weakling can't even take a punch."

"Don't know what Master Boris sees in him." Bryan drones scornfully, crossing his arms.

"I'll bet the baby can't even hold a Beyblade."

On the floor I fume silently, initial fear gone, my fists clench and tremble. I didn't spend two years training here for nothing. From Boris I have to take it, but I can bring _them_ down at the very least…

"Aww, is da poowr baby gonna cwry?"

No. I restrain myself. A few short minutes of glory are definitely not worth the following hours of punishment. Still on the floor, I brush myself off, slowly, painfully but silently.

"What's the matter weakling? Can't fight without Master Boris here to hold your hand and kiss away your boo-boos?" Vasili mocks.

Red flashes in my eyes.

'_How __**DARE**__ THEY!'_

Something must have changed in my expression, because the boys suddenly flinch. Later I'd wonder what had happened—discovering it as a sort of neophytic death glare—but right now the only thoughts I am having are very graphic images of Vasili dying a _very _painful death.

"You," I hold the word with a curl of my lip. "Have NO idea what I do to even survive each day. NO idea of what I've learned… what I can do to _you_." My voice lowers threateningly and I slowly stand, I did not spend months on the street and a year in this hellhole without learning something. "If I wanted," my voice is a harsh whisper now; even angry, I'm not stupid. I know there could be some bad consequences for saying this, but I couldn't care less right now. "I could kill you; _easily._ I could run a blade through your neck before you even realized what had happened; I'd be _happy_ to…"

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?"

As a unit, we swivel around and a wave passes over the hall as every boy's head is thrown forward into an extemporaneous bow. An instinct born purely from long-instilled discipline and triggered by a simple voice; even I am surprised at how the floor suddenly obscures my vision.

"_Dobrayeh_ _otra, Master Boris!_" _Good morning, Master Boris!_ The customary call reverberates over the sloped ceiling as it passes no one's, and everyone's, lips. The word '_Master_' is always English. It makes the man standing before us all the more Untouchable; Ethereal.

Risking a glance, I see him talking to one of the boys in the front. My blood freezes as he points straight at me and Boris eyes lock onto mine. A different kind of tremor touches my spine, a string of curses running through my mind, I swallow and quickly look down.

Not fast enough.

"Subject 743649-57," A cold voice, thick and oily like dripping fat, drawls above me and I resist the urge to cringe. There is only one voice like that. He sounds angry.

But I refuse to so much as plead for my cause; I will not become another mindless slave. He's going to punish me anyways. So, getting over my first reaction, I rebelliously _(yes, one more word from my list)_ raise my eyes and gaze back defiantly into the emotionless red lenses of Boris' goggles.

"I had a feeling you'd be behind this, I am very disappointed 57." He is smirking though. "You there, Vasili!" He snaps suddenly at the boy to my right, who immediately stands to attention, back ramrod straight and staring directly ahead, as is proper. One is never to look directly into _his_ eyes, under no circumstances.

The fact that I continue to defy that rule didn't help my cause. But it did make me feel better about myself. I turn to stare at Vasili then, another transgression. One is not to move until Boris done with them. I am past caring though, I know what's coming and everything's gone numb around me.

"What is the situation here?" He questions, looking down his hooked nose hawkishly.

Vasili visibly quails under Boris's gaze but I'm sure I see a slight smirk curling at the corners of his mouth. "He came at me, sir! I did absolutely nothing to provoke him; he just came over to my table and started cursing at us, sir. He slammed the table and the food went everywhere, sir."

"What did he say, exactly?" The icy voice continues calmly, but somehow I sense a more dangerous undertone.

What follows is Vasili, after apologizing profusely for using such language in front of Boris, going to great lengths to repeat every single foul word that I had apparently used. Some of them even I have never heard; and I consider myself an expert when it comes to these sorts of things.

I notice the lines around the Director's mouth hardening, a sure sign of rising temper. Last night's punishment flashes in my eyes and all my false bravado melts away. I find myself copying Vasili's posture, looking at nothing. But my eyes are wide. I'm trembling.

'_Please, stop talking.'_

"He threatened to kill me, sir." Vasili's voice is as close to gleeful as it can be while remaining emotionless.

My eyes squint as I mentally kick myself. I did—I did do that.

"Is that so?" He turns his red-eyed goggles on me, speaking softly, thoughtfully.

I don't answer, but I don't look at him either.

"Is this true?" He says louder, to Spencer and Bryan. Like good little boys, I see Spencer nodding fervently out of the corner of my eyes, while Bryan gives a curt, but polite nod.

'_Little ass-wipes.' _I think viciously, trying hard not to send them a dirty look.

"Well then, it would seem that we have a situation here." His grin is feral. "Come with me, 57." He turns on his heel, priest's cloak billowing behind him, and walks away.

My head drops and I force my feet to follow after him. As soon as he leaves the room laughter breaks out around me and something cold and slimy strikes my arm. Looking at the grey porridge I glance backwards and only just manage to dodge sideways to miss another wad of the stuff.

"Get out, _Freak_!"

Turning quickly, I viciously rub at my eyes which are stinging...—I am not crying!—and run through the door—

—Only to be thrown into the wall with a gasp as something slaps my cheek.

Blinking, I know better than to rub at it, so I try to ignore my cheek as it tingles, slowly turning numb. Looking up in shock I see the Director-_Boris-_adjusting his leather glove.

"That was for showing emotion." He states evenly. I push off the wall, glaring. His mask flickers over in my direction and before I know it he has taken a step forward and backhanded me into the wall again.

"And that was for being disrespectful."

I bit back the nasty comment and snarl that comes to mind. What am I thinking? I can't just go around insulting Boris—the Director. He is too powerful. All hints of disobedience drops from me and my gaze drops as I slump against the wall. Even still, I cannot stop the little voice inside my head that is telling me this is wrong, that I am slave to no one, but today it is quieter than yesterday. And quieter still than the day before that.

He walks away.

"Now come, you have work to do, my Firebird."

I shudder at the pet name, "What, no punishment for insulting Vasili?" The words are out before I even think about them, and I immediately regret saying anything. He turns back to me and somehow I gather the courage to look straight back into his soulless, covered eyes. I much prefer them to his own dusty grey eyes, anyways, which are always gleaming with a strange, disturbing animalism.

His lips draw back over his yellowed front teeth; I think he's smiling. "Foolish boy, do you really think I believe you would throw your own breakfast into the wall after missing both meals yesterday? And even you are not so asinine that you would insult and threaten a boy right after one of our '_sessions'._"

Looking away, silently I wonder what that word, _asinine, _means. Somehow I get the feeling that he would not be pleased if he found out I had _actually_ threatened to kill Vasili.

Suddenly I feel something disturb the air and my arms shoot upwards. They aren't fast enough and the stick catches me across the cheek, right where he had slapped me earlier. I bite back a cry of pain as I fall against the wall. I make to shove away from the support but freeze when I feel the razor sharp point of the stick at my neck.

"For your idiocy." His body is rigid in line with the stick and he has his head turned to the side and downward to stare me over the polished piece of wood in his hand.

"Now, follow me and come quickly. I do not like to repeat myself."

The stick is swept away and I relax against the stone wall. Detaching my hands forcibly from the painful grip they had maintained on the stone, I let them fall slowly down to my sides. Lowering my gaze to the floor I quickly follow after the Director.

He leads me down a series of stairs, and I'm not very surprised, most of the training goes on in the lower levels anyway. Above the cafeteria is only the main entrance which is used for guests. The students aren't allowed there, the only time we get a glance at the sparkling, sloped ceilings, gold trimmings, tall, stained windows, dark velvet armchairs with skirts and carpeted floors is when we we're cleaning them. However, the best students, who get introduced to the board and inspectors, actually get to _sit _in that room, and _eat_. Silently, I had told myself that I _will_ be one of those students one day.

There are other floors above the main one, of course, but they are strictly off limits. For good reason.

The floors I spend most of my time on are right below the cafeteria. These are the study and training floors.

The first two are simply for teachings. The Abbey is one of the only post-communism, religious institutions in all of Russia. Each student: rich, poor, from prominent families and abandoned orphans alike, every one of us had been hand picked to join this institute. So we, as the privileged few, are supposed to feel honored to be here: to have the chance to learn at one of the most advanced academic establishments available modern Russia. At least, that's what has been drilled into our heads repeatedly to say to all the donors and prospective affiliates.

But the truth is really much different.

Every day, seven days a week, for hours upon hours, we sit at hard wooden desks in the study rooms as pompous teachers recite scriptures and arithmetic to us; science is forbidden and denounced as blasphemous hypocrisy against God. We are expected to memorize our lessons and be able to recite them on demand. For further studies there is a library, two stories tall, filled from floor to ceiling with books of all types.

He quickly leads me past these two floors.

Then there are the physical training floors. Three stories dedicated to weights, aerobics, gymnastics and everything in between. Where—when not studying or sleeping—we are put through merciless, brutal physical tests of all sorts.

Of course, the beyblading stadium has its own floor.

But as the Director leads me past even these floors, my stomach curls in apprehension. None of the regular training goes on below these floors, and the further down we go, the worse the Abbey gets. There are the standard laboratories, which we pass without a single glance. Personally I think they were just for show for when the board comes by biannually to make sure everything is in order.

Then he stops in front of a large metal door and punches a security code into a console. My stomach sinks horribly.

It's going to be one of _those_ days.

Past the door the entire atmosphere immediately changes. No board members ever check beyond the Door and it is for that reason that the conditions deteriorate rapidly from there on in. Down a narrow stone staircase we go and I avoid the sharp unfinished rocks making up the walls and eye the Director's back anxiously as it flickers in and out of sight in the fleeting light the sparsely placed wall torches provide.

We pass the bed chambers: simple solitary cells with one cot and a small tunnel which leads to a communal bathroom shared between five boys at most. The bathrooms are locked at night as well as the door to the room. Not like anyone would ever want to step outside their room at night… It's not much, but it is much more than many of us could have hoped for outside of the Abbey. And those who come from rich families quickly learn that there won't be any posh maid service to take care of them; once you arrive at the Abbey you stay at the Abbey… you have no family, not anymore.

Below the living quarters are floors all students avoid like the plague, if their lucky they only have to pass through them once; even I don't know all the basement floors, but personally, I wish I didn't know any of them at all. Or that I visited them as much as I did.

These are the punishment and trial chambers.

Thankfully he stops at the lower stadium instead of heading down to the punishment rooms. I give a silent sigh of relief. I don't think I could handle another day of that, or another night chained to the dark, damp walls.

But then common sense kicks in and I wonder why I'm even here at all. Surely I'm not going to be tried? I've been good—or better, at least—recently. Then I am to fight another?

"Today we're going to try something new." The Director sneers as though hearing my thoughts and he lets out a disturbing chuckle that sends shivers up my spine. "I'm going to see if you've learned any discipline from our lessons." Those words could mean any number of things, but I stomp on my fear quickly. Instead I force a large swallow and watch as he orders the guard to open the gleaming metal doors of the stadium; the Director steps forwards, then pauses at the threshold.

I glance quickly at him then walk by, we both know why he's letting me pass first and a shudder passes through me as I can literally feel Boris' eyes scour my body. A disgusted snarl tugs at my lips but I let it fade instead of showing the detrimental (_another vocab word!_) emotion.

Once in the room, I look around the room a little. It's empty. Red bey dishes are spaced at equal intervals and each has two raised platforms where the blader can launch their blade. Higher up are small observation decks. Everything in the room is made of gleaming metal, yet many deep scars decorate the walls and floor, caused from beyblades gone awry.

"There's no one here." I state carefully, not wanting to give Boris another reason to hit me. I gaze at the shiny door opposite me. It's so polished I can see my own reflection staring back in it. I quickly look away, remembering it had been I who had cleaned the room. It was terrible, washing out the stain of—

"Where's my opponent?" I interrupt myself.

"Watch."

His gaze rests on the door unwavering, so I wait too. Suddenly, the metal clicks and the door slides open. Two abbey guards enter and between them they seem to be half dragging, half carrying a small miserable boy into the room.

My eyes widen.

The boy is tiny, underfed and neglected he couldn't have been more than a year older than myself. He looks terrible: he's as thin as stick. Tugging his arms weakly in the guards' hold, he tosses his head like an agitated horse and I glimpse his pinched and tired face, with glaring circles under the eyes as though he hasn't slept in days. Thin rags hang off his bony shoulders and heavy cuffs, three times the width of his own skeletal wrists, bind his arms together in front of him. He staggers with the weight of them almost as though he was going to fall over any moment. Luckily though, there aren't too many visible bruises, it doesn't look like the guards were too rough on him. The thing that strikes me most about him though isn't his figure. It's his hair.

His hair is red. Dark red, like the color of Dranzer's flames. I've never seen red hair.

Again, the boy attempts to wrench his arm out of the guards' hands and earns a harsh slap. I almost cringe as the boy lets out a cry of pain, crashing down onto the ground pitifully.

I can't stop my traitorous mind wondering; _'I hope he didn't break anything'._

Boris walks forward. "Meet Tala." He looks down at the redhead disdainfully, spitting the name out like rotten fruit. "Your competition."

The boy's head rises and icy, crystal clear blue eyes meet my own. A sense of familiarity hits me, it's almost as though I'm seeing myself. I remember being dragged to this very same room, half dead, and presented with the ultimatum: win or die.

I look up at Boris and he sneers down at me. He isn't sending me to a match; he's sending me to deal a bloody death sentence! I'm not the best yet, but I am one of the best at this abbey. If Boris is pitting this boy against me he must want him dead. It's just more fun for him if he tortures us while he does it.

"The boy was found stealing food" Speaks Boris, still smirking. "You will be the deciding factor on whether he is worthy enough to live or not."

_'This is my test'_ I realize, staring at the boy. _'I must kill this boy to prove my loyalty.'_

"You're fighting for your life, brat." One guard says as he takes off the cuffs. A shove sends the redhead boy flying onto the platform. "Better make it a good show."

Shakily, the boy lifts himself onto his hands and knees and then his head comes up; he stares straight at me. He says nothing, doesn't growl, doesn't complain, doesn't even glare. He just _looks _at me.

_'He's confused.' _My eyes widen at this abrupt understanding of the boy's plight. '_He doesn't know why he's even here. He was probably an orphan scavenging for his next meal. He has no idea what this place is. He has no idea what a nightmare he's just entered.'_ I find myself frozen to the ground. I can't move; I cannot take this boy's life away from him. He's young, innocent, so much like I was before I became this...

"What are you waiting for, fool! Fight him!" Boris snarls at me suddenly, I cringe away but he grabs the back of my shirt and tosses me towards the platform. I manage to keep my footing and just stumble over the ridge.

I pull out my blade, and to my surprise, redhead pulls one out as well. I wonder where he got it but push the thought out of my mind; I don't have time to think about it. In a sudden flash of spontaneity, he throws me a cocky grin which, framed by a halo of fiery hair and gleaming blue eyes, seems to etch itself permanently into my mind. I didn't return the look, just stared at him.

We wait for the countdown to be initiated and as I ready my blade I see his eyes shrewdly roam my face which has probably begun to bruise from the slaps. I turn my head away.

"**THREE**... **TWO**... **ONE**... **LET IT RIP!**"

Like a spring being released, Dranzer flies free from my hand and I exult in the welcomed rush of adrenaline. As Dranzer flies in the air I am right beside her, nothing can touch me when I'm here... I'm free.

When Dranzer hits the dish in a perfect point-spin landing the adrenaline fades from me and like a drug I crave the feeling again, and again I shove it to the side, just in time to see the redhead—no, Tala—execute a nearly perfect landing, his blade only skipping once with a wobble, consistent with a shaky hand. Much better than some of the 2nd strings, whose blades hop and jump on the metal bowl, a brutal, primitive destruction of both bowl and blade.

I'm impressed, even in the boy's starved, confused condition he still shows noticeable skill. Boris must see this as well.

We circle each other for a time. Each silently testing the other's stamina, stability, speed and patience. Neither he nor I want to make the first move, so we merely wait. Silently I bid Dranzer to move to the center of the dish and spin lazily in place.

As I had expected, Tala's patience runs thin before mine, and he eventually gets tired of circling me with no obvious reciprocated effort on my part.

"Lupin!" He cries. "Attack!"

The blade rockets forward instantly at the command with considerable speed but I easily shift Dranzer aside with a thought and the blade passes by harmlessly. I then move back, continuing to spin in place. Tala's blade screeches as he tries to force it to turn before it hits the edge of the dish.

_'Lupin?'_ My mind runs away with me for a second. _'I wonder...?'_

Tala attacks again, and again, and each time I swiftly dodge. I don't want to fight him; instead I try to think up a plan.

_'He's speeds impressive.' _I muse, compiling data. _'But he lacks stability, and I'm not sure about his power-..."_

"_BOY!_"The sudden menacing shout nearly causes me to jump out of my skin; I do my best to repress the urge, hoping my body just freezes. I know he's talking to me. Across from me, redhead actually does jump and nearly sends his blade careening off the edge. He saves it, then looks up, but relaxes quickly when he realizes he is not the subject of attention.

"Boy, do you dare disobey me? I gave you an order, now stop prancing around like a weak girl and finish him... or am I going to have to teach you another lesson?" His voice lowers drastically at the end suggestively.

I pale and Tala notices, looking at me curiously. I lower my head, light blue bangs fall over my eyes. I'm pathetic, I can't even look.

"Dranzer, attack."

She responds instantly, slamming into the other blade with such force that the other is blown backwards. Tala is taken aback but to my astonishment he recovers, quickly enough to save himself from falling out of the dish.

My head snaps up. _'Good'_ I think, filled with renewed hope. This might just work out. _'Now,'_ I mentally will Tala. _'Attack me. Just attack me!' _Redhead's eyes narrow, with anger or concentration, I don't care. Lupin rushes forward into Dranzer. The blades hit, grinding against one another and sparks fly as the game of shove begins.

"Ya!" I thrust my hand forward. Dranzer flashes with a golden glow and Lupin is thrown back. Tala grunts then calls Lupin to smash into me again, his eyes blazing with anger and humiliation. I blow him backwards again.

_'No,'_ I mentally command. _'Don't loose your head! Think; I know you can figure it out, attacking without power will not beat me!'_

"Finish this 57!" Yells Boris and I nod. Tala looks at me and I try to send him a message through my eyes.

"Dranzer!" I call, my voice merging with the cry of my phoenix. My head is thrown back and Dranzer's chip glows with an ethereal light. The phoenix flies out of the blade in all her extraordinary glory. Alight with scarlet and gold flames, only her silhouette is visible as she rises. From Tala's point of view, Dranzer's figure—wreathed in flames, her eerie, mellifluous song filling the room with mesmerizing intensity—must be quite intimidating.

Indeed, redhead is staring in slack-jawed awe at my phoenix, not making a single move to defend himself. I growl. My decision is made split second.

"Tala!" I cry, completely disregarding the consequences: Boris' wrath; a twinge of fear—no, I feel nothing—"Snap out of it! Defend yourself; I do not waste my time on weaklings!" It works. I smirk as Tala's eyes flash dangerously.

"I am not a weakling!" He yells. "LUPIN!"

From Tala's beyblade emerges a huge wolf, clawing his way out of the bit. I am pleased. I'd guessed right, a grin breaks out on my face unbidden. '_Yes! Now we have a battle!'_ I feel Dranzer responding to my excitement and I'm glad to let her go.

"Dranzer, fly!"

"Lupin, attack!"

The two blades collide in a brilliant flash of light. Everyone looks away.

From the smoke rises a sole beyblade, straight into the air.

Ka-_CHING!_

It falls and rolls to a stop at Boris' feet. The smoke clears and only one blade is left spinning in the center of the dish. The sound of the fallen beyblade echoes and reverberates around the room ominously.

"Lupin!" Tala cries. He jumps into the dish and grabs his spinning blade. "We won! We won! Thank you!"

Once Tala has finished celebrating he realizes how silent the room is. His eyes go to me, trying to catch mine but I don't return his look. I swallow thickly. I have bigger things to deal with. I walk over to Boris, the task made much harder since my legs have turned to lead.

Dranzer lies at his feet. I lower my head in a small bow.

"I lost, Director."

The blow was not unexpected, but it still hurt. The head of Boris' hard, metal tipped stick strikes the back of my neck and I fall to my hands and knees. Gasping, my hand darts out, snatching Dranzer away, holding her protectively to my belly. A kick to my chest sends me flying across the floor, skidding to a stop I lay there for a second squeezing my eyes shut against the pain.

From somewhere off to the side, I here Tala yelling something and I pry my eyes open to look at him from the ground. I see him struggling with the guards, what is he doing? "Red," he calls. "Are you OK?" Red. Even in my state the irony is not lost on me. But why does he care?

I pick myself off the ground. I see Boris waving idly to the guards.

"Lock that one up somewhere upstairs, he has potential. You there, bring young 57 up to my personal chambers. This boy needs to learn not to disobey me."

My eyes widen—'_no...'_ — and as the guard grabs me—'_NO!'_—I struggle, trying to stop him from pinning my arms. The Director is suddenly at my side and he grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking it backwards. My neck arches and tears sting my eyes; I let out a small sound between a gasp and a yelp. He leans down next to my ear.

"I know what you did." He whispers into my ear, an ice cube slides down my spine and I shake in his grasp. My eyes are wide with fear.

"These glasses are not mere decoration. I saw through the light. I saw how you changed the angle of your blade at the last second. I suppose to your credit, the boy will live. But you on the other hand need some serious disciplining." Something wet and spongy runs over my ear and I whimper and squirm, trying to turn away as Boris runs the flat of his sticky, slimy tongue along my jaw-line; below my ear.

Boris' hold on my hair keeps me there and when he pulls away I jerk my arm, trying to wipe the disgusting feeling of wet saliva from my ear. But my arm stays stuck in the guard's hold. The Director's face comes within my view again and I cringe away from the scary grin he gives me.

"After all _Firebird_," he whispers, in my ear once more. "It has to be a lesson you will _never forget_."

'_No...'_

Stinging, disgusting tears fall as I'm led, dragged, towards the elevator. There is only one place where the elevator goes. The last thing I hear before the doors slide shut is Tala's voice screaming at his captors. "Let me go! Red, don't go with him! Why aren't you fighting back? Red, NO! Come back!"

My eyes drop to the ground. The Director lays a heavy, sweat-slicked hand on my shoulder, pulling me closer in a mock embrace. Tears run slowly down my cheeks, my arms are rigid at my sides and I don't dare raise a hand to wipe my cheeks or the wet on my ear, which is slowly drying into a sticky crust. I'm trembling uncontrollably now, my weight completely supported by him. I had not thought of the consequences of my actions… I thought he'd just hit me around… Leave me in the dungeon… not this; never _this_.

I had found out not long ago what the floors above the entrance were for, Boris had dragged me up there one day after I had done something particularly bad. I meant it when I said there was a good reason why the upper floors were off limits, although I wish I had never discovered it.

_'Because, Tala' _I think bitterly. _'I'm not like you; I lost that spirit a year ago. As long as you're alive though, I'm happy. Thank you, for showing me courage once again.'_

Boris and his guard lead me to an immense room with plush maroon carpets and plush maroon, heavy curtains of velvet, hanging on rings and rods with tassels of gold and covered in black Victorian lace which concealed high, wide glass windows. Plush, alternating with black leather covers large armchairs with thick skirts. Little knitted white doilies lie on the dressing-table and side-board; a white cloth with tiny glass beads at the hems covers a jug of water. On the walls are massive oil paintings depicting animals ripping each other to pieces with terrible detail. They hang on heavy intricate gilt frames and span almost the entire wall.

...In the center, headboard against the wall, lies a huge four poster bed carved out of the darkest, reddest wood. Blood red covers are decorated with elaborate black stitched patterns that curl and twist over the covers like parasitic worms. Heavy velvet curtains hang around the bed, pulled back with golden tassels, like the mouth of a monster opening wide, revealing the bed to all.

A room fit for the devil.

Looking closer one can see the telltale signs of the true nature of the room. Small dark flecks dot the walls, tucked under the bed is a dark leather whip.

Looped five times around the bed posts are thick pieces of rope.

Tattered and torn, as though gnawed by desperate teeth, stained red at the ends.

Red, with my blood.

The door slams shut behind me and I spin around, only to be met with Boris' grinning face.

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'**;**.**;**' ... _Flash _... '**;**.**;**'

* * *

My eyes shoot open.

"Haa haa..." I gasp loudly as I come out of the memory. Eyes wild, I glance every way, trying to recognize where I am. Slowly I draw in a deep breath and hold it, breathing it out at a controlled place, easing my erratic heartbeat.

_'Gods'_ My mind is on overdrive, only a few thoughts making their way to comprehension. _'He didn't... no... It can't be real. I don't know if it is real. I don't know what happened next. I don't know if it really happened. I __**don't know**__No. Nothing happened, nothing. Nothing. Take it out of your mind. Forget. Don't think.'_

'_Empty.'_

Slowly the mem—no, that _hallucination—_fades and the world around me slowly, so slowly, comes into my vision.

I'm hugging myself, curled onto my seat. I quickly let go.

A screech and loud clunk throws me forward. I blink, focusing sharply and glance outside. It's twilight and the train has stopped. The clock on the wall shows the time as 7:00 am... _7:00 am. 'The reunion is in two hours.'_

A voice grates out over the announcer. "Last stop, Moskva. All passengers please depart. Remember to check all baggage compartments and have a good time in Moskva." Calls the conductor with all the enthusiasm of a eulogy.

"No... no, I can't do this." I shake my head as I drop it into my hands. Suddenly all my confidence has fled. "Why am I here? I have a new life. I don't need them. I'm fine. I am. I—" A warmth comes from my pocket and I draw out Dranzer.

"Dranzer, I know, I know what you are thinking, but I can't do this..."

Her consciousness strokes the edge of my mind and, gingerly, I let her in. The insinuation of her thoughts becomes clear and I freeze.

_'You are not a weakling.'_

She's right. I came here for a reason and I will not let any petty dreams beguile me of my purpose.

I tuck the notebook away but keep a hold of Dranzer for some reason and quickly weave my way through the crowd, my lack of baggage makes this easy and I manage to flit from one place to another fast enough to prevent any obvious recognition. My hood, also, helps. I reach the street and immediately duck into an alley, choosing the most unobtrusive method of reaching my destination.

"Let's go Dranzer."

Well, one thing's for sure, I certainly will not be taking any more nostalgic trips through my notebook any time soon.

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**_End Chapter Eleven_…**

**… _To Be Continued_**

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Like? Hate? Tell me what you think! Also I was wondering about changing the genre of this fic, I had a hard time choosing it to begin with and I'm still not quite sure if Drama/Action/Adventure is the right choice… If you guys could tell me the genre you feel this fic falls into it would be much appreciated!

Now, for my reviewers!

**lady KCassandra:** Wow, there's such a big time difference! When I updated this fic it was… 4 or 5 PM here and it was 2AM where you are? That's crazy :P! Well anyway, I'm happy you actually sacrificed sleep time to review my fic (even if you were technically trying to escape your assignment XD… I feel your pain though, I had midterm exams all this week and last week…pain, lots of pain). Anyway, yup, yup, a little slow moving (we're still on the train!) but I hope the flashback was enough to feed the old Kai-torture love!

**FlamingIce94:** Thanks! I was hoping I managed to keep Tyson and Max in character (They are hard to write! I mean, first I write a Kai chapter, with all this seriousness and angst; then I have to completely go the opposite way and write about the others who are more immature and happy, but still sad…). Oie, well, at least it's fun, and I got to insert some Kai torture in there, I know it's more violent than in the show, but I hope you still liked it ;)

**Canyx:** Here it is! The next chapter, hope you enjoyed, and thanks, I'm glad I've managed to keep Tyson and them in character :)

**Miako6:** Yeah, it's so typical of Kai to think he's all alone in the Universe, isn't it? He'll go through all this drama and pain and still won't tell anyone, but that's why we love him:P Anyway, I understand completely if you can't review (I just finished up my midterms, which were EVIL, and time consuming…). Just as long as you keep reading the story:D

**d1bontemp:** :D Thanks! I'm so happy you're enjoying the fic so far—it hasn't even _started_ yet! (_Evil chuckle)_— Hope you liked this chappy!

**kavbj: **Hiya! Yesss, (_rubs hands together, laughing evilly_) Kai being mean to Tyson, was just TOO much fun to write. Just like this chapter was too much fun (hope you liked it!). Your holiday sounded really nice though, I'm jealous, I had to stay here and do my midterm exams…:( Glad you liked the confrontation (yes, it actually _is _a word XD, you had me wondering for a while too!), I was trying to think of a way that Kai would help Tyson, but not be obvious about, then I thought '_Duh! Kai would just insult him!'_ and see what happened! Oh, but if you DO jump in there to teach them how it's done, take me with you! (_fangirlish squeal; thinking about meeting Kai_) Maybe we could beat up Tyson, we all know he didn't deserve to win the championships anyway XP… That and they practically abandoned Kai for a year! Terrible! Oh, and hey, by the way, what did you mean about the cuckoo clock looking sick at 12:30? Why only at 12:30? Does it look different at other times of the day? And how did it look? (yeah, I know, lots of questions :P, but you got me curious!). Also, just one thing, I read the last chapter of your story _Lifes Sorrows and Regrets_ I didn't manage to review it, sorry! (midterms…ek) but it was really good, and now I wanna know why Kai can't speak English, what did Boris and Voltaire DO to him, those evil… pigs! (Yes I know, sad insult, but after all the cursing in this chapter, I've run dry :P) Oh and in case someone else hasn't beat me to it… I think _what?_ In Russian is _Shto?_ Or _ч__то?_ I'm not quite sure why the translator didn't translate it, but I think that's what it is (_shrug_), I could be wrong but, eh, that's what my book says. :P Anyway, update soon, and please tell me if you liked the chappy!

**phoenix-falling:** Hey! See, see I updated, I'm not evil! XD Really?! This fic is your favorite? Wow… I feel really special, thanks! And I'm glad you don't mind the pace of my story, I promise that it hasn't even started yet and there is much action and angst to come (if this chapter wasn't indication enough :P). Hope you liked this update, I was thinking about your review while I wrote about Kai's vocabulary list :D

**Jegnifer:** Yay! I kinda took a chance with this chappie, so I hope you like it too! Thanks for reviewin'!

**sunnyhoney98765: **Hello, let me first say thank you for reviewing! I'm glad you've liked my style of writing and I really hope I didn't just ruin you're opinion with this chapter :) I just read your review before I put this chapter up… and it's kind of creepy how you mentioned the no swearing thing just as I put some of it in :P Overall, I dislike using bad language (and reading it) and I struggled with putting it in this chapter (I kept putting it in, then taking it out, wondering if it was necessary or if it would disappoint my reviewers). However, in the end I decided to put it in as it is important for developing Kai's character. I also wanted to make my fiction somewhat realistic: and a bunch of suppressed young boys stuck together at an Abbey are bound to lash out in any way they can…I promise though that swearing will NOT show up in the majority of this fiction. I hope that you weren't too offset by this chapter, and I hope that I, at least, didn't overdo the swearing. Please tell me if you think it's too much or if it's ok, I'll even understand it if you tell me you hated it! Anyway, thanks for reading, regardless of the language I still hope you liked it!

**Adio!**


	13. Interlude: Wicked

Hiya! Happy Halloween, and for a treat, here is an appropriately creepy interlude, hope you enjoy!

This is my first interlude; tell me what you guys think! I am so SO close to 100 reviews, you guys are amazing!

**Disclaimer:** Too tired to come up with a witty disclaimer. I don't own it, even though I do in fact own this dude... but I don't own Beyblade and I guess that's what matters.

Enjoy!

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

_After the world championships in Russia, Kai just wanted to vanish. Then one day, inevitably, Kai is drawn back and ensnared in an intricate web of magic and legends; wrought by forsaken history and controlled by none other than Voltaire. _

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**Interlude:** **_Wicked_**

When the train finally docked at the station, people rushed out of the steel cage like frenzied cattle. The platform was overrun by throngs of dirty, sweaty bodies smacking against each other—children and luggage tugged ruthlessly in their wake. Among these was the target, but he was no longer of any interest to Voran.

As everyone else went one way, he stepped slyly out the back door of the train and headed back into the tunnel.

With swiftness that belied his appearance, Voran glided through the darkness, not bothering to stop as he twisted and turned with the tunnel with all the keenness of a bat. No one in this world or the next knew the underground tunnels as well as he did. He knew every inch, every corner of the tunnel, new and forgotten. That was why he had been chosen for this task.

Quite honestly, Voran couldn't care less about the people who dwelled over land. Forsaken long ago by those same people, he had come to the tunnels and found a new purpose to his life. Here, many feet below the sun, there was an entirely new world. He saw things no one else had ever seen, touched things others thought dirty, collected things others had forgotten. Together, under the streets of Russia, he and his forsaken family lived in peace.

But Voran was wary of the people above. In the beginning, when only the deepest and darkest places could sate his madness, he had nearly been crushed multiple times by demolition groups destroying old tunnels for new. Since then, he had grown smarter; he made it his business to know who went into and out of his tunnels. It had taken him years to discover and map every ingress and egress, but after all '_Moskva nye srazoo stroilas'. Moscow wasn't built all in one go. _His efforts were rewarded. He knew where the workers came, he knew on sight the people who took the trains regularly, and he could spot tourists a mile away.

But most importantly, he could find anyone, as long as they passed over his land.

Which was why _he_ had come.

_He_, a man Voran had not seen for many years, had played a very important role in the forsaken man's life. _He_ had been the one to realize that, in a purely rational oxymoron, the only way to cure Voran's madness was to place the man within such pure darkness that there was no room for his loneliness.

Only within the darkness could Voran forget his own wretched existence. He could sit for hours upon hours without moving, barely breathing, until hunger drove him to kill another rat—thirst to drink from the drains.

Then a miracle had happened. One day, the gift of thought—rationality from the abyss of darkness, claws tearing clarity into his insanity— had come back to Voran. He realized where he was, understood for the first time that he was alone in this world; he was alone, so very alone, but he had _survived_. And he could continue to do it, alone.

In return for his benevolence, _he_ had asked for only one favor, to be called upon whenever _he _wished.

It was done. Voran was free.

Reaching his home, Voran made his way past the various collection of sweaters, sneakers, socks and an occasional pair of pants, all abandoned deep within the tunnels; he passed his collection: a myriad of fine jewelry, watches, rings—fake and real, fashion icons as well as lost engagement rings—all carefully hung on nails driven into the wall. Pulling a lone dead rat out of his pocket, he threw it carelessly to the emaciated hound which lay desolately on the floor as he walked by.

The dog nosed the rat, flipping it over.

Voran reached his objective: something new to his collection, acquired a little less than a year ago. A cellular phone.

Voran held the small plastic thing in the center of his palm, rolling it over and over thinking about how the day had gone. Perhaps it took him longer than most to figure things, but he still liked to spend some time just thinking; it helped remind him that he was still sane. Sometimes he liked to write, it reminded him of a time when—

Over all, the day had gone well. He had succeeded in his goal. Searching for so long among the surface folk… had been most onerous. But Voran thought he had handled it pretty well, at least, until those _drunken bastards _had come in. A dark scowl twisted his features and in the background came the loud crunch of bone being crushed as the dog finally decided to take a bite out of the rat. He _hated_ people like that. Foul creatures like that should be exposed and taken away like the dogs they were. People like that made him want to—

Abruptly, Voran's face cleared and a small smile came to his cracked lips. The target had been an unexpected surprise though. _He_ had said Voran would know him on sight, and _he_ was right. Never would he have guessed that the young _Master Hiwatari_ would be the one. Oh yes, Voran remembered the name Hiwatari very well. Very well indeed. Many years had passed since he had last seen Lord Voltaire, but he was not a man one would easily forget. Voran's hand clenched on the phone and slammed it down on the table. Wet slurps sounded from the ground as the dog lapped at the rat's remains. He did not _like _Hiwatari.

But his young grandson...

Voran remembered him too. He scratched idly at one of the black patches of skin on his neck with a long, jagged fingernail, a small toothy smile forming on his face. Yes, he remembered the young Master. Eyes like those were hard to forget, and it seemed as though the boy had done quite a bit of growing himself since he'd last seen him so many years ago.

The young Master believed himself worthy of a noble title—Voran had seen the insulted look in the child's eyes when he had called him _Master—_how hilarious! Voran let himself giggle for a moment, _what irony! _Hiwatari himself was unworthy, let alone his spawn, if only the child had any idea what his grandfather truly _was,_ Voran knew... _Yes_, his face crinkled into a frown, Voran knew _all_. That was what led to him being... him being—

_No!_ Voran's mind recoiled like a frightened rabbit from the thought and he found himself thinking something else...

Voran had feared those drunkards, but he had not feared the young Master. His reaction afterwards had been partly theatric, partly residual fear from before. Voran really was a good actor… yes, yes, a _really _good actor…

He had not feared the boy. That spoke volumes. Voran could not remember the last time he had not feared a person, really, it made him quite _interested_. It was too bad the young Master was _his_ target. Maybe, if the boy lived, Voran would pay him a visit...

But right now he had business to take care of.

Voran picked up the cellular phone and warily pressed a number on the strange contraption. A voice, scratchy with bad reception, answered impatiently on the other side. Voran put the thing to his ear.

"Hello?" His voice, gritty with long disuse but also hoarse with excessive recent use, grated over the mouthpiece. "It's me, Voran."

The tone on the other end changed considerably, the voice asked something. Voran grinned: rotten teeth uncovered in putrid glory.

"Yes," He answered, "Yes, it is done." And from his throat effused a cacophony of high pitched giggles, screeching like nails on a chalkboard.

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**_End Interlude…_**

**_… To Be Continued_**

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Yes, yes it was short, but you have to admit it was _interesting_ hmmm? I wonder what _that_ was all about? Who is… '_Him_'? Anyway, you guys gave your opinion and I agree: at this stage, this story is more Drama/Angst than Drama/Action/Adventure, so I changed it! Thanks for the help!

**Raykou-Kun:** Hello! Yay a new reviewer! Thanks for reviewing, hope you liked this interlude!

**d1bontemp:** Yeah, I agree about this being angst, I guess I just didn't really want to make the change without some input on it :P thanks. Oh and as for Tala remembering…. Hmmm, we'll just have to _see_ won't we? I actually haven't decided if Kai is the youngest out of the Abbey group or not (though he is the oldest out of the Bladebreaker group). I think Ian might be slightly younger, but not by much… It'll depend on the timeline I think (when Ian arrived at the Abbey). Oh and your review made _my_ day, so we're even XD

**lady KCassandra:** Hey! Yeah, I don't think there's going to be any crazy Yoda-ish alien jumping around telling Kai the "Force" is with him while Kai is trying to fight off a dozen evil maniacs with only one bullet...hah ha… Although, the idea DOES have merit XD. So I did change the genre, however, the whole story is not just going to be about people moping about Kai, as you can see from this interlude, there is another _deeper _plot twist involved (_evil chuckle_). So, you live in Australia? That's not fair, I mean you might have tough assignments, but at least you have good weather! It snowed here in Canada a few weeks ago! (just briefly, but still! Snow! Yes, bye—that's pronounced _buy_, heh, you added a 'mate' in your review, so I had to return with something equally colloquial, ha… ok, I'll stop now :P…)

**Cailany:** Wow, you read my whole story all the way through at once at 2 in the morning? AND left a review?! Thanks! I mean, I can write this story and claim that reviewers don't affect me or my writing (like some writers do) but that's just not true; it's just a really great feeling to know that someone else has read something you've spent hours working on and enjoyed it! I hope I manage to keep the rest of my story up to that standard!

**wolf's lament: **Hey, yeah (looks up at chapter) I guess I'm gonna make you wait just a _little_ bit longer for the reunion… you're probably wondering now exactly _how _long I can make two hours? (_evil laughter_) Well, you'll just have to wait and see! I hope that I still manage to keep your interest regardless though :P I really appreciate you saying that you liked the last chapter. When I posted it I wondered if I had made it too strong… But yeah, you know, I always pictured Bryan and Spencer as the crony types: they act however the person they're following does, which can be good or bad… Also, when I added the vocab part, I wanted to give the impression that the child Kai tried to distance himself from the bad things around him by being rude (calling Boris by his name) or thinking of something else (like his vocabulary). But Kai was still a _child,_ so he kept faltering: getting scared (when he called Boris 'Director') and loosing his language ability (at the end of the Abbey scene). Hah, yeah I obviously thought _way_ too much about that :P Anyway, I'm glad you didn't think the swearing was too much (I almost edited it out, just before posting the chapter, but it's probably a good thing I didn't), hope you enjoyed the interlude!

**FlamingIce94:** Oops, yeah, I never actually mentioned that the point of view was Kai's, I sort of assumed that since most of the story is in his point of view then people would automatically know it was him, I'll probably go back and put a POV notification at the beginning later :P thanks for bringing that up! So, you like the flashbacks? That's good! We'll be seeing more of those as time goes on… Oh and about the vocab thing, Kai was always such a perfectionist, wasn't he? XD And that only one of the reasons why we love him!

**Miako6:** Ha ha, yeah, I wanted to keep the rating at PG-13, so I stopped the memory just short… but feel free to let your imagination go crazy (aw, poor Kai!). So you must be finished your midterms by now, I hope they weren't too bad, but did you say that you had one on Sunday? How can that be? I mean, at my school the closest we come to having tests on the weekend is exams on Saturday (but never midterms). Is it something special at your school or is that how it is where you live? Sorry I don't mean to pry, but this kind of stuff is interesting for me (yeah, weird, I know :P). Anyway, thanks for reviewing, especially just one hour before your midterms O.O

**phoenix-falling:** Hiya! I'm glad you like my descriptions, I always feel like fanfiction authors tend to cut short on them (because they want to rush to the action, not like that's a bad thing, I love action too :P) so I'm trying to put lots of it in my fic. As for the big words… heh heh, I'm really much more fluent on paper, plus my best friend is never write fanfiction without it! XD Anyway, as for what happened at the end of the hallucination, well, let's just say it wasn't very G-rated… (yeah, I'm evil, and also very glad that Kai isn't here to exact beautiful revenge on this poor fanfiction author for torturing him! XP)

**UNpReDiCtAbLE lIfE:** Hey, hah ha, would you believe that I had no idea I had rated my fic at K+? I thought for sure it was T… oh well, I changed it; thanks for that! It's too bad you don't remember what happened so far in the story, but I guess it's at least a good sign that you liked it :P Hope you enjoyed the interlude.

**yo tadaiima:** Yay! New reviewer! Hello! Thanks for reviewing, and great penname, it's 'good morning' in Japanese, isn't it? Anyway, I know exactly what you mean: there just aren't many good Beyblade fics out there anymore! But I'm glad you consider mine as one of them, that's a really high compliment :) For the reunion, well, I can't say if Kai will cry or not, though that would be fun (_evil chuckle_), but there will probably be enough angst and drama to make up for it :P

**kavbj: **Hiya! Yes, poor Kai, Boris definitely did what you think he did. Oh and after that chappie I'm not too sure if it would be such a good idea to meet Kai, I'd probably squeal and faint (make a right fool of myself XP) and he'd probably be pretty mad with me too, after all the torture I've been putting him through… yeah, heh heh there goes my dreams of him falling madly in love (ha, like that would happen!) The cuckoo clock thing does sound very… bad (I feel sorry for that boy :( poor kid) maybe the clock was broken? I duuno, it's weird that it didn't even come out of its house thing… Anyway, nope! No 'Breakers in this interlude, but I hope it was good anyway!

**juut Telcontar:** Yeah, the consensus was Drama/Angst so I'll keep it like that for now, but who knows, it might change (I'm really bad at identifying the genre of my own fic :P) Anyway, if you were on edge after the last chapter, then you must be ready to kill me now! XD Sorry, I did warn ya that this story is gonna be LONG (you think this is suspenseful? Just wait 'till we GET to the reunion…(_evil laughter)_…)

**Keylor:** Hi! Yes, my thanks to you for all your wonderful reviews, I never dreamed that THIS many people would review my story! Anyway, I admit to shamelessly stretching the limits of Kai's sensitivity :P My defense is that Kai barely ever showed up in the show anyway, and so when he did he was cold and harsh, but sometimes, rarely, he would be insightful (these are the times the 'Breakers are remembering, it's also the times that they overlooked before, preferring to believe Kai was an ice cube… hah ha, I don't know if that made much sense, it sounded reasonable in my head XD).

Also, in regards to Tala referring to Kai as "Red", well, the first thing Kai noticed about Tala was his red eyes… But Tala, well, maybe the first thing _he _noticed was Kai's red eyes :) Oh and chapter 11 was supposed to be ambiguous, I really like that it made you think! And the fact that he was the same age as the Bladebreakers will be in your fic (7) was completely unintentional! Honestly! I didn't even realize it was they were the same until you said so!... Anyway, the only other thing I can say on the topic right now is that all the thoughts that Kai was having were by the 7-year old boy (I know they were advanced and psychological, but that was supposed to be part of his character, as a result of how he grew up so fast at the Abbey). In addition, Kai thinks it was a hallucination, but as to what it really was…XD At any rate, your fic is really good, and I hope you update soon (I can't wait until they go to the past, even if it does take a long time!).

**sunnyhoney98765:** Yay! I'm glad you liked it! I was worried for a little while there! XD Oh, and glad you like the Abbey boys and the teasing, poor Kai, huh? I make him go through so much :P Anyway, I KNOW, I'm so close to 100 reviews, it's killing me! On the other hand, I'm really happy 'cause I never expected to get this many ;) Anyway, hope you enjoyed the interlude!

Also, to **Shadowslayer798**: Thanks very much for the wonderful comments you made on my story! I know it was a reply that you sent (and therefore shouldn't, technically, be in the review section) but I was so amazed that you spent so much effort writing me that 'manuscript' (which I greatly appreciate!) that I thought I should respond to you here. I just have to say that as an author, I wonder a lot about whether or not my readers will appreciate all the long winded spiels and tiny details I tend to spend ages on; to here that someone actually noticed (and cared!) is incredibly uplifting. Thanks! And I hope I manage to keep this fiction up to those standards (I feel as though your praise is too high for me XP, but it makes me want to write better to work up to it!)

**Adio!**


	14. Black Morning

**Chapter 12!**

And after the day I've had, you guys better appreciate it! I mean, I thought I wasn't going to be able to post this for another week! But at any rate, here it is, not only early, but my LONGEST chapter yet! Be prepared to spend a long, long time glued to your computer XD

By the way, if anyone didn't catch it, Voran is the SAME OLD MAN from Chapter 9… You remember? The dirty old man who was sitting in the cabin on the train? Hah, I wonder if that enlightened anyone…

**Disclaimer:** I hold no ownership over Beyblade. If I did, Kai would be more prominent than his 'show up every 5 episodes for 2 minutes to feed the cats' showtimes... As it is, I do not, and Daichi gets all the air time. (Zeo too, for that matter, got a lot of air time...). Additionally, the line 'putting on an old shoe' is a Kai-quote from one of the Beyblade episodes, so I don't own that either.

**WARNING: **PG-13 for this chapter as well: violence, language… Kai was a vulgar little troublemaker, wasn't he :P

Enjoy.

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

_After the world championships in Russia, Kai just wanted to vanish. Then one day, inevitably, Kai is drawn back and ensnared in an intricate web of magic and legends; wrought by forsaken history and controlled by none other than Voltaire. _

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"_Winning doesn't satisfy us -- we need to do it again, and again. The taste of success seems merely to whet the appetite for more. When we lose, the compulsion to seek future success is overpowering; the need to get out on the course the following weekend is irresistible. We cannot quit when we are ahead, after we've won, and we certainly cannot quit when we're behind, after we've lost. We are addicted."_

—Stuart Walker

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**Chapter 12: ****_Black Morning_**

"Hn. 1126, Neglinnaya Street: Moskva Beyblade Pavilion. This is it then." I spare the large gold-capped building a perfunctory glance; while its size may be unusual, I am not overly impressed by the rather common communist red-stone and cubic shape denotative of old constructivist architecture. Though often mistaken by tourists as the old residence of the Tsar, the building does not in fact have much in common with the ill-fated, neoclassical Alexander Palace of the Tsar's Village. Lying a mere fifteen miles south of Petrograd it was once not only the favorite retreat of the last acting Tsar Nicholas II, but one of the final places he and his family would ever see after they were placed under house arrest and subsequently put to death in the basement of the Ipatiev House in Yekterinburg.

Post-soviet Russia—after the rise of the Provisional Government following the Tsar's abdication as well as Bolshevik coup d'état and the slow return to democracy after Stalin's sudden death—has improved by leaps and bounds since the dark decades before. Moskva has been the eternal spearhead during this time; one easily noticeable example would be that without restrictions on height or materials, a new freedom of expression was open to the long oppressed people. And though the love for high, sloping ceilings and detail still prevails, it is clear that modernized western buildings, skyscrapers, will soon become the new eye of Russia.

Yet, even with her claws now firmly dug into democracy, the ground itself has become unsteady as the expected leap into a stable independent sovereignty rivaling the American economy has not occurred in Russia. Many regions remain poor—remain floundering between autocracy and socialism: the only governmental choices that actually seem to advance the state, democracy coming in a poor third with its stagnant economic growth and substandard Human Development Index recordings. Democracy proved itself as a luxury for the rich; a stable, unambitious format which gains you nothing and leaves you with nothing.

But that is neither here nor there. Russia needs to grow, and this building, with its somber anatomy, bent and distorted to fit a corrupted idealist's mind is too reminiscent of the past and failure.

'_Perhaps more reminiscent to you, of corrupted idealists who delight in debauchery and enslavement...'_

Mood decidedly more irritable, I slam the lid down on that train of thought and instead trace my eyes back down to the letter in my hands. The first time I had read the letter, something about it had irked me; too lost in other problems though, I had ignored the feeling. Now it is back in full force: If they had known all along where I was staying, why was I not found by the BBA or Biovolt for that matter? Unless they regarded me so worthless it was more cost efficient to leave me as I was...?

I turn the letter over, searching for some clue. The address is the common one: where everyone on the street picks up their mail; it had been pure luck that I had managed to snatch the letter out of the pile before anyone had noticed. But really, had that been luck or something else?

After the disastrous events of last year, why would the governors approve of situating another event in Russia so soon?

Unless... there's more to it... I read the letter again:

_Dear participant,_

_While it has been a year since our last correspondence, it is within our wishes to find you in good health. As an honored member of a former internationally credited Beyblading team, you are cordially invited to attend a reception detailing the events that we at the International Beyblade Association hope to introduce in the coming year. _

_Following the events of the previous year, it has been the decision of-..._

'_Dear participant'_ I ponder, not '_Dear Mr. Hiwatari'_. My eyes narrow in thought. Perhaps it is a long shot, but maybe it is possible that they really did not know where I was when they made this. The lack of disambiguation in the title would prevent drawing unwanted attention to the recipient, namely me, but how then did a letter find its way here? Izhevsk is quite a long way from Moskva.

'_Unless they know I'm not in Moskva.' _This is a possibility. '_If they've searched Moskva and have tabs on all movements across the border they would know I have not left the country.'_ Suddenly the pieces are starting to fit, the hand clenched on the letter lowers as I raise my head, '_and with the infamy of the Hiwatari name and the recognized ignominy of the marks on my face... for me to remain unfound... would narrow the searchlight significantly. They would have realized that I am living either alone, or with immigrants, preferably of the illegal stature.'_

In the back of my mind, the realization alarms me. I could be putting the Huo's in trouble by simply attending this meeting. Already though, my thoughts are easing the knot of worry with soothing fingers of logic.

'_No, again, if they were sure where I was they would have come to collect me.' _At least, I think they would have... The rising roar of a gathering crowd catches my attention and suspicion rises as I glance around to the front of the Pavilion where a rather large group of people has congregated. From the lack of posters and advertisements I had gathered that the beyblading meeting was relatively unpublicized.

'_Then what are all these people doing here?'_

Stepping closer, and making sure that my hood is securely covering my face, I notice an overzealous person jumping up and down...

..._And waving a very familiar card._

I look down once more at the invitation in my hand, an exact copy of the card that person—and many more in the crowd, I see now—is waving about. The last piece of the puzzle falls into place.

'_So, they sent invitations all around to likely suspects... but was it just an extreme coincidence that I received one or... How many of these did they send?'_ The ramifications and necessary clean up for an error this large, even intentional, as this one appears to be, are huge.

I finger the letter, 'w_hy would they go through such trouble?'_ The answers come immediately: For my team it would be guilt; guilt that they had forgotten about me and a need to rectify the situation for their own peace of mind. For Mr. Dickenson it would be the simple truth of saving his job, after all, loosing an international representative does not exactly help shine one's record. As for Gran-Voltaire... it doesn't take much to see that he wants to save himself from legal crucification, after all, I am still a minor, and technically still in his custody...

'_Plus, he never was one to waive the chance to rub my failures in my face...'_

'_Unless he never planned on my staying lost.'_ Now there is a disturbing thought, a quickly suppressed shiver attempts to slide down my spine. '_Maybe he just threw me out for kicks, planning to have me come crawling back, begging to be taken in. Then in a profound act of benefaction he would offer me shelter, while strapping my throat in a dog's collar. But when I did not return… a more direct approach had to be taken.'_

It made sense, in a morbid way. During those first horrible months, of which I had spent a great deal hiding and running from the Abbey guards, I had thought that they pursued me for mere sport; Boris would surely have much enjoyed having my head delivered to him on a silver platter.

But what if their object had been—not search and destroy, as I had once thought—but search and retrieve?

With head bowed, none of my interest is on the road which I'm walking, and it is of no real surprise that I am completely taken unaware as someone violently collides with my shoulder, spinning me sideways. The man whirls and opens his mouth to yell, most probably some vulgar insult—

—but the words die in his throat and instead of angry words, a fearful gasp escapes his throat as my hood falls. I reach to raise it again but the damage has been done.

"Y-You!" The man—really quite unremarkable, with a strained face and bloodshot eyes and a rather rough accent to his Russian—stutters. "Y-You're that D-Demon! That Blue of the A-that _place_, the one th-th-at es-escaped. You're H-Hiwatari's kid!…AH! Get **away** from me, you… you freak, you're nothing but a damn _MURDERER_!" He screams the word at me, all the while backing away, until finally he turns and runs.

The reaction is not unexpected, but the emotions it draws are. For a moment I am frozen, images flickering across my mind:

...the Abbey, Black Dranzer, the explosion...

..Screaming, falling,

chaos…_death_…

My eyes snap back into focus and I see people skirting me widely, they gaze at my face, my eyes, then turn away with fear and disgust. They want to hurt me, kill me, but are too afraid of the weight my name carries.

Hood completely forgotten I turn on my heel and flee to the first safe point I can find: a narrow secluded alley. Even as the security of shadow envelops me the world tilts and I stumble into a wall. My hands fly up to clutch at my head...the pain is terrible...and my knees buckle.

The world fades away.

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_No... the darkness... it's too much,... too strong, evil... get away. Get **away**! I don't want this power. GET AWAY!_

"AH!"

I fall backwards to the floor, hitting my head hard and lay there, splayed across stone.

I groan. What happened? I'm supposed to be strong! I control power, not the other way around, how could a mere bitbeast overcome me? Black Dranzer is MINE, MY power, a PART of Dranzer.

The last tendrils of darkness recede from my mind and for what feels like the first time in ages, I'm able to breathe and think freely. That _thing_, that infestation that had invaded my body, ripping at my mind and suffocating my heart, is _gone_. Relief floods me. The first thing that I become aware of is the thick, dusty smell of smoke...

'_SMOKE?!'_

'_Oh no!'_ I jerk up to rest on my elbows, then twist first one way then the other, my eyes search the room frantically. Dark clouds drift through the lab, obscuring my vision, but the stench of burning chemicals and the distant crackling is unmistakable. The Abbey is on fire! How did this happen? Did I do this? In the corner of the room I notice a small fire burning merrily, winking, mocking me, from the destroyed console.

The flames are pure ebony.

'_No-no-no-__**no**__-__**NO! **__Dammit…dammit, SHIT!'_

Cold fear envelops me '_Master Boris is going to KILL me!'_ But then another thought occurs to me and real panic settles in.

_Dranzer!_ I forgot her in my cell!

I gasp—then cough as smoke instead of air scorches my throat—and scramble to my feet. In the moment it takes to overcome my dizziness I quickly plan the fastest way to get to Dranzer, then dash out the open door. Immediately, the shriek of the fire alarms assaults me and I nearly fly face first into a wall of black fire. Skidding to a stop, I practically fall to my hands as I backpedal wildly, scampering away from the fire like a crab, the new route to Dranzer already mapped out.

I sprint back into the lab and doge around tables to get across the room. Something in a cupboard explodes as I'm passing and a cry is torn from me as I duck and cover my head with my arms. Pieces of wood fly, some missing by mere inches, some not. I don't dare stop and keep running as plumes of smoke rise from the leaking cupboard, the air gaining the acrid reek and taste of burnt chemicals.

Spotting my way out, I skid to a stop in front of an immense metal door and quickly punch in the password.

_Access...Denied_

"What?" The word is a whisper of denial. I type in the password again.

_Access...Denied_

"NO! Damn bloody stupid machine!" I yell a few... stronger words and proceed to nearly crack my toes on the console before realizing that access must be blocked during crises.

"Idiot." I mutter to myself. Now with another road blocked, my options are running thin. The only way to go up now is... I glance over to the side...

'_The dumbwaiter'_

Not caring about the trouble I could get into for this (_like I'm not freakin' dead already), _I viciously tear open the small wooden door and proceed to destroy the weak ceiling of the small shelf-elevator. I don't have the time to ride the slow, rusty elevator so instead I grab the rope, tie the loose end securely on a ring in the ground (the double constrictor knot—loop twice around and over… then around and under…and under the first turn, pull, check) mutter a prayer to whomever is listening, and haul myself upwards hoping to God that the rope will hold.

It does.

One hand, then the next, then the other and again... as I slowly, painfully drag my body upwards by my hands alone I remember exactly why I have always hated rope climbing. The walls are uncomfortably close and I keep scraping my back against them. I think for a moment about using them to brace myself, but that would take to long.

'_Hurry, you need to get to Dranzer NOW.'_

I nod absently at the voice in my head and try to pull faster, but my hands are burning, my arms are trembling and I think I'm slowing down...

Another door passes and I note with relief that the next one is my stop, almost there, just one hand, pull, then the other, then pull and again...

And then I'm grasping air as the rope goes lank between my hands.

I think I screamed, but in that split second moment all I could do was stare dumbly at the rope, mind utterly, terrifyingly blank.

Then gravity takes over and I'm falling. The scream rips out from my throat for real this time and I claw at the air frantically, reaching for something—anything—that will slow my descent.

My back slams against the stone wall and immediately, without coherent thought, my arms and legs snap out. My toes strain within their shoes to find a hold and my palms are torn open on the uneven stone. For one sickening moment I think I won't be able to hold on. As I slide downward, death for the first time becomes real. Frighteningly little crosses my mind as the only real thought I have is agonizing despair that I could not reach Dranzer.

Then my feet catch and my hands, now bleeding freely, hold. I bend my arms at the elbow and lean my back against the wall. No sooner have I moved back than a searing pain flashes across my nose and cheek. Looking down I see the black flames, still licking away merrily at the frayed end of the rope, twinkling at me like dark stars in the abyss of the shaft and they fall down out of sight.

I lick my dry lips, then slowly begin my climb upwards once more. I notice—vaguely, as I'm seeing everything through stained glass in the back of my head now— that my arms aren't trembling anymore, and I didn't really feel tired, I can't even feel the stone beneath my hands. The thought doesn't really seem to mean anything to me though.

I see wood in front of me at some point and with complete clear-mindedness, manage to shift around and distribute my weight accordingly in order to reach out, open the door and tumble through it headfirst into a somersault.

I rise to my feet and glance back at the shaft, a small dark hole cut into the wall, it really looks quite innocent. I realize I'm feeling a sudden urge to giggle but quickly stop myself.

'_I wonder what Tala will think when I tell him about this_,' is my first thought. '_He probably won't believe me, or he'll think I'm crazy.'_

I realize that I'm giggling anyway and when I try to stop, it only gets worse. I reach out to lean on a table and a sharp pain causes me to hiss between my laughter. I raise my hand to my face and stare at the jagged cuts that have torn my palm to shreds. Blood steadily flows downwards, over my wrist.

"Hee hee, and they said you can't climb" Somehow the hilarity is crippling now. "Look at you now, scampering up the rocks like a bloody monkey with a death wish!" I'm laughing so hard now tears are running down my face and it's only when my breath runs out completely and I'm left heaving on my knees that I begin to think clearly again.

"I need... to get... to...Dranzer." The last word is a sigh between my panting and the words repeat themselves in my mind.

'_I need to get to Dranzer, _

_I need to get to Dranzer, _

_I need—'_

A crash nearby snatches my attention and I haul myself to my feet. The urgency of the situation becomes clear again.

"Ok," I take a deep breath and nod with satisfaction when it doesn't hitch. "I need to get to Dranzer. So from here..." I walk quickly to the door, open, luckily, and glance out into the hall. No one is around. Good. I know exactly where to go; but before I sprint out the door I spare one last, dark look at the shaft.

"I really do hate rope climbing."

* * *

'**;**.**;**'

* * *

Again, I'm running down a narrow, dark hall, all around me I can see the destruction caused by the fire and many times I have to stumble and backtrack in order to avoid the flames. If anything the fire is even stronger up here.

'_That doesn't make sense; I started the fire down below.'_ Unless the fire had somehow spread, but then why hasn't anyone put it out?

'_Come to think of it... where IS everyone?'_ The thought sticks in my mind. Yes, I should have run into someone by now, a screaming student or at the very least a fireman! Where is everyone...?

'_Unless they can't stop the fire...'_ My eyes widen with the realization, it wasn't all that unbelievable: the pure fury and rage I had felt from Black Dranzer could have fueled a thousand fires. But that meant no one would stop the fire, it would burn until...

'_**The fires of Black Dranzer are insatiable.'**_ The sibilant croon that voices that thought sounds nothing like my own voice. Determination steels me and I run faster.

'_I have to hurry.'_

Finally I reach the student quarters and I slid to a halt at the threshold, quickly mapping out the room. Astonishingly, the fire has left the room more or less untouched, yet the smoke here is the thickest. The single lightbulb in the center of the room swings erratically above me, flickering wildly before finally dying. I pay no heed to it, and without wasting a thought, plunge myself into the smoky quarters.

The darkness is suffocating, but I'm unhesitant as I run through the room, swerving around corners and hurdling invisible obstacles that I've navigated for years. The smoke grows heavier with each step I take and with mounting concern I round the final turn.

"No!" My throat closes with fear; the smoke is coming from my room! '_DRANZER!'_

I throw myself at the door and grab the metal handle to throw open the door—

—And immediately recoil as unbearable pain scorches my hand.

A sound somewhere between a pained hiss and whine of terror escapes from my clenched teeth as I cradle my hand close. '_It BURNED me!' _The realization is shattering. '_That's not possible! Nothing burns me!'_

'_**The fires of Black Dranzer are insatiable.'**_ The sibilant whisper, low and mellifluous, echoes in my head once more. '_**Weakling, you will never conquer the flame.'**_

A spark of my own ignites my rage and disregarding the burn, I reach out again and this time ignore the pain as I tear the door open.

A wall of flame, blacker than ebony and glittering merrily like precious jewels greets me with twinkling mockery. A cry of dismay leaves my open mouth. "No! DRANZER!" She's on my bed, the flames are blocking me, but I have to get to my bed...

'_I have to get to my bed!'_

I grit my teeth and silently recall my training. '_I am impervious to flame. Fire is my element. I control fire, it does not control me!'_

I reach out experimentally at the black flames but immediately pull back with a hiss. '_No good. Try again'_ Before I can manage to concentrate again though, that sibilant voice, mesmerizing in a chillingly familiar way, invades my thoughts once more.

'_**The fires of Black Dranzer are insatiable' **_comes the predictable croon. '_**Foolish mortal, you cannot conquer the flame!'**_

'_I can.'_ My mind and will are set. '_And I will.'_ This time I take a full two steps forward. The flames touch my face and body briefly. I feel nothing. Oddly, I hear a hiss of angry disbelief.

'_**You!'**_ The silky voice speaks again, but this time it is touched with shock. '_**You dare to challenge the flame!'**_

"Yes I," I answer with a hiss of my own. "Let me through. I command you—"

'_**Command!' **_Comes an angry shriek; no longer is the voice so mellifluous. '_**No one commands the flame!'**_

"I do." I answer steadily. "And I command you to let me pass to Dranzer."

The voice seems to give a thoughtful silence. '_**Why?'**_ Comes the eventual question.

"She is dear to me." I answer truthfully.

'_**And I am not?'**_

I freeze at the unexpected question, "Who—"

'_**I can be dear to you too, mortal.'**_ Suddenly the sibilant croon is back and the black fire reaches out to caress my cheek softly. I feel a powerful thrill run through me. _Desire_…_completeness_… _transcendence_…Unaware of my actions, I lean closer. '_**I can give you all that you desire: Power... Freedom... Immortality.'**_

With a jerk, I break free of the dark tentacles around my mind. I shudder, not at the touch, but at the words. Power is a deep desire of mine, yes, and the yearning for freedom runs even deeper. But _immortality_... that was a dream of _his, _not mine. I will not let myself fall into that trap. But the hollowness left in the wake of the darkness is nearly overwhelming and I find myself craving…_needing_… more…

'_No'_

"I came for Dranzer." I say unflinchingly. "And you **will give me Dranzer!**" With a determined yell I throw myself into the flames and for a moment I wonder if I have been consumed. Then I feel the flames recede and I fall to the ground on the other side of the wall. A yell of fury rises up in my mind and the flames tongue the air convulsively, no longer twinkling. I waste no time in grabbing Dranzer and the moment my hand rests on her a golden glow erupts from her, soothing me. A wail of furious despair—that I recognize as the once sibilant voice—rises in my mind but fades slowly as Dranzer's warmth overcomes it.

I hug the chip close to my body, wishing for a moment that she would emerge, and then wondering if I even deserve to see her anymore.

"I'm sorry." I choke out. "So sorry." I abandoned her for that monster, Black Dranzer, I don't deserve her. "Please forgive me." '_Don't leave me_.' Is my silent plea

Unbelievably, a soft lilt rises in the darkness and holy phoenix song, enthralling and healing, graces the air for a few precious moments.

'_She forgives me'_ I stare in disbelief. Then an uncontrollable smile breaks out on my face. "You forgive me! Thank you, thank you, _thank you_." I almost leap into the air, but remember with a start where we are.

"Come on," I whisper to her. "I'm getting us out of here."

A path through the black flames has opened and quickly I run though it, clutching Dranzer like a lifeline. But just as I'm about to cross the threshold a mad shriek rips through my head so deafening that a cry of my own joins it as my hand fly up to clutch at my ears.

'_**You will not leave me!' **_The sibilant voice is shrill and painful. '_**You belong to me! You are **__**mine**__**, and I **__**will own you**__**!'**_

I didn't see it coming. One moment I'm clutching my head trying to dispel the horrid voice while attempting to stumble out the door, and in the next something has swept my feet out from underneath me and with a cry I fall forward. My hands reach out to catch myself on something, anything.

Something flicks across my vision and in an instant, the abused hand holding Dranzer is struck so ferociously she flies from my grasp and across the room.

"DRANZER!" My desperate scream cuts through the roar of the flames.

'_**COME TO ME!'**_

"NO!"

'_**COME!'**_

Something groans ominously above my head and, risking the chance, I glance up around my arms to the ceiling just in time to see the rafters give and the sky fall. With agility that shocked me later, I yield to instinct: tucking my head between my arms and rolling smoothly over the threshold and into the hall. Behind me, the room crumbles around the shrieking flames and stone, dust and wood explode outwards. My head is spared, but the rest of my body is laid bare as both wood and stone cut into it. Luckily I had managed to gain at least some shelter behind a large stone, shielding my vitals from the worst of the blast. The screaming from the voice in my head dulls and dies away. For a moment I lay there, breathing...

"Dranzer!" Awareness snaps in and I remember the peril my friend is in. I rise to my knees, carefully avoiding the use of my hands, and glance around wildly.

A small glow catches my attention and then I see her.

"Dranzer..." I whisper and move to run to her.

But a sharp warning halts me in my path, and slowly my eyes rake up to the ceiling. Black flames lick at the rafters threateningly; the entire ceiling could collapse any moment. I had to get to Dranzer, but I had to be quick and careful. Just as I ready myself to move, a soft sound freezes me in my tracks.

"Help...please someone, help me..." the voice is so familiar, and with shock, my eyes swivel to the side.

"Help me..." Vasili Arya's eyes are glazed with pain, but still focus with disturbing firmness on me. I stumble forward and that is when I notice the beam, awash with glistening flames resting on the floor.

With him under it.

Vasili wheezes for air and even as far away as I am I can tell he's gritting his teeth against the dual pain of the crushing beam and the searing fire. "Please, move this beam..._Hootshi._" My eyes narrow at that. _Hootshi_, literally meaning '_worst'_ is a wicked bastardization of the title I had attained: _Hoodojneek, 'artist'_ is what I am known by now. It is my title, it is what I am introduced by and what commands respect from the governors. '_Hootshi_' is what my fellow students call me behind Boris' back. A pathetic attempt at debasement.

And not one I appreciate now; it was not for his intellect that the bastard was acclaimed.

Almost as though hearing my indecision, the ceiling creaks above Dranzer and almost simultaneously Arya lets out a howl of pain, unable to hold it in as the fire slowly melts him alive. My eyes widen and flick back and forth between Dranzer and the boy writhing on the floor.

'_He'll die if I leave him!'_ My brain frantically informs me, I look back.

'_So will she.'_

Again the ceiling groans, louder this time and a heavy piece of wood totters dangerously above Dranzer. It is enough to get my feet moving. I don't even think about my decision as I race over to my Phoenix, hand encircling her protectively just as the beam falls. I don't react fast enough and the heavy wood, passing centimeters from my nose, pins my arm to the ground.

A scream of pure agony tears out of my throat as I feel something break, wood and flame crushing bone, incinerating skin.

With unknown strength I yank my arm as hard as I can and somehow manage to free it. The limb dangles uselessly and I quickly take Dranzer into my other hand and stow her safely in my pocket. Another cry penetrates my hearing and suddenly I remember Arya.

But no more than a step is taken in his direction before a deep rumbling comes from above me.

Instinct takes over once more and I throw my good arm over my head and bolt. I don't get far before I trip over something hard and topple unceremoniously onto the stairs, yelping as the slightest jarring sends waves of pain through my arm.

A loud crash interrupts me and my head jerks up as dust and flame rise from where I had just been.

The ceiling had finally fallen.

For a moment everything is quiet, even the flames seem to temporarily cede. I realize then that the quiet is too profound.

"Arya?" I whisper, a moment passes and I gather up the courage to ask again, this time louder.

"Arya…Vasili!"

No answer.

I stare blankly ahead, nothing and everything going through my mind all at once. No emotions surface. I feel nothing and soon my mind is blank as well. I lick my lips and blink. My eyes are dry.

Slowly I turn and run up the stairs more focused than ever to leave this hell behind.

9 year olds do not cry.

* * *

'**;**.**;**' _Flash _'**;**.**;**'

* * *

I'm on my knees gasping madly. If not for the dumpster and the wall, between which I had managed to brace myself, I would be flat on the ground. As my breathing slowly regulates …like a fog lifting from my eyes… I become aware of the world around me: the first being the sensation of pain in my hands.

Glancing down, I half expect to see marred, bleeding flesh, but am mildly surprised when I notice that I've simply curled my fingers so tightly around the stone and pebbles on the ground that they are digging uncomfortably into my skin. Gingerly, I detach them and gradually uncurl my fists, idly brushing off whatever is still sticking to my palms. The scarring has faded, I note with muted curiosity, it's there, but it's faded... that means it actually happened... This information really doesn't seem to be as big of a deal as it should be... that's odd.

Next, my ears slowly tune in and I become aware of a soft sound near my shoulder. I look down and see a feathered head burrowing into my arm.

"Dranzer...?" I feel a little confused, as though something was wrong. "You're not hurt are you?"

She gives a soft coo, then raises her head to look me straight in the eye.

Suddenly the fog in my head is gone and my mind is clear. I snap my head up as an icy hand seems to clench around my heart. I don't remember where I am, I glance around quickly and move to stand but Dranzer's insistent chirps stay my movement. Slowly, everything comes back: the world championships…Grandfather…the Huo's…the reunion…

The energy drains from my limbs and I fall back against the wall, throwing my head back so it rests on the concrete as well. My side is against the dumpster, effectively concealing me from the casual passerby. I curl one leg up to my chest and wrap an arm around it, the other leg stays stretched out and Dranzer settles there, half on my lap. My remaining hand, the left one, runs over her feathers idly.

"It's alright," I inform her gently. "I'm out of it now." I reinforce this with what I think is reassuring look, but from the noise Dranzer makes—I wasn't aware she could come so close to snorting—I gather I didn't do a very good job of it.

"I don't understand though," I muse quietly, looking off to the side with shuttered eyes. "Is it that they get stronger every time I have one, or was this one special?" I reach back to touch the back of my neck and take note of the moisture there. "I'm sweating in the middle of a snowfall."

Indeed, even though my coat is covered in a small layer of white powder, I'm flushed and still breathing somewhat abnormally. A little time passes during which I regain complete control of myself, then I raise a hand to rake it through my hair, repressing a sigh as I look downwards.

"I do not think I want my memory back if all I have to remember is... pain and murder." I am about to substitute another word for 'pain' but I stop myself.

...And stop myself from thinking it too.

Dranzer lets out a deep, throaty sound and I reach back up to continue stroking her.

"Why are you still here?" I ask tactlessly, only noticing how that sounded once it passed my lips, but Dranzer, perhaps too used to my personality, merely cocks her head and waits for me to continue. "What I mean is..." I pause and look away; I cannot manage to look at her while asking. "Why are you still with me? You know I was disloyal, you know I am a murderer, why would you want a partner like that? You have amazing potential, why are you even bothering—"

Dranzer cuts me off at that moment. She lets out an angry squawk and raises herself to her full height, flapping her wings a few times. As she effectively gains my attention I turn my head watch her, only to see her rise upwards then lash out quickly with her beak.

"_Ow_" I say sharply as she raps me, not-so-affectionately, on the head. I duck as she aims again. "Hey, what was that for?" She halts in the air then, and if birds could huff with exasperation she would have just achieved it as she puffs out her chest in a grand show of gleaming golden down feathers, lands and staunchly turns her back on me, folding her wings and ruffling long tail-feathers with much pageantry.

Her anger irritates me in its irrationality. Why get angry over a simple question when she didn't even respond to my earlier tactlessness? I lower my arms slowly then study Dranzer closely, trying to glimpse something of her emotions through our link. Unfortunately, she is blocking me quite effectively.

"I am not feeling sorry for myself." I say flatly, but still wary of any negative responses. She does not respond and I give the entire thing up as a lost cause.

"Anyway," I continue in an easier tone, looking away form the phoenix, "I am not leaving yet. I refuse to let a few silly nightmares cloud my judgment." Indeed, even as I speak, the strange vision has faded to the back of my mind, making it easier to ignore. "Moreover, I have unfinished business with them. I have to be sure that Boris and Voltaire will leave me in peace." Dranzer's gold eyes flash back at me and we exchange a small battle of wills.

"Very well," I concede with good humor. "I admit that seeing Tala again is a thought that crossed my mind as a rather intriguing side effect." I glance sideways at Dranzer, "and besides, the invitation requests the presence of the respective team's managers." I give a small smirk. "The poor 'Breakers would be terribly alienated without theirs."

Leaning around the dumpster, I search out the clock I remember seeing earlier within an arch near the top of the Pavilion. _08:00._ I note with satisfaction. That is good, the reunion beings at half past eight and I had already decided to arrive late. There had really only been two choices, either reveal my continuing existence earlier than necessary, submitting myself to their group advantage, or I cause a dramatic entrance later by throwing open the door to a speechless crowd.

Neither option appealed to me but eventually I chose the latter: at least that way I can postpone the inevitable question mobbing until later. I want to arrive with the upper hand and that can much better be achieved if I arrive when they are least expecting it, opposed to presenting myself at their mercy.

I look back and note, unsurprised, that Dranzer has returned to her bit. It really is amazing that she even managed to stay out as long as she did, and I am thankful. I try to convey this to her as I gently rub my thumb over her chip, I even send over a little remorse for whatever I had done to make her so upset. A small, appeased croon echoes in my head.

'_Not angry then,' _I note, a tension easing from my shoulders. '_But still not completely forgiven.'_

Shifting into a more comfortable position, I look around for a cleaner place to sit, but upon discovering that my current position was practically as good as it was going to get, short of standing, I remain where I am; honestly, just because I can maintain the position does not mean I would prefer to stand against the wall.

For a second I entertain the idea of pulling the black book out to sketch in, but desist in that train of thought; I do not really want to look at that thing yet. Without the luxury of outside stimulus I find myself lost within my thoughts.

The boy in the second memory was a great deal different than the one in the first. More reserved, less emotional and definitely more capable. I had changed much from the weak, lachrymose child I was as a seven year old… and yet, had become more submissive: referring to Boris as _Master. _What had happened?

And then there was my arm. I reach over and tug off the red protective guard. For many years I have covered my arms, not just to hide my unsavory habits, but to serve the dual purpose of hiding _those_...

Ugly strips of raised, patched scar tissue weave into and out of my arm, threading a grotesque, unfinished artwork into the flesh, as though worms waltzed beneath my skin. Though faded, the sick pale pink-white bump of the hypertrophic scars has not disappeared, leaving bald chunks across my wrist and forearm, stretching the skin into an uneven, tender cobweb, finishing at my elbow.

Mrs. Huo had nearly given herself an ulcer when she, through my own negligence, glimpsed my arm. At the time, I could not tell her truthfully how I had received the scars, and, in a gross abortion of imaginativeness, was unable to divine a convincing lie. But that fire... I had moved that scalding beam with my bare hands...

I pause, no not bare hands…

...bare _hand._

_My left hand._

"I was left handed." My voice is soft with incredulous comprehension. It explains much: Why I had always had so much trouble with the pen, why I had to resist switching hands at the dinner table under Grandfather's captious eye, why I was so weak at launching—when everything else about the sport had come as easy as putting on an old shoe...

With my left hand so torn and abused after the fire, I would not have been able to use it for months… which was why my arm had hurt so much when I had woken up in Japan after loosing my memory… Patience and attention would have let the arm heal. But _Grandfather _could not wait. No, he needed his _perfect_ grandson, all packaged and delivered ready for use with a pretty bow to boot. My faults were an unwelcome inconvenience. But if that were true, is it possible that Voltaire had known I was left handed all along?

A small prickling in the back of my mind, like an itch it annoys me, and I realize that I've begun to think of those—_hallucinations—_as reality again. The itching quickly stops.

A sound alerts me to a presence, no many presences, at the mouth of the alley. In a flash I'm on my feet, making sure Dranzer is safely in her bit and in my pocket. I tug on the aberrant glove, only pausing to habitually run my thumb over the tattoo on the inside of my wrist, and then peer carefully around the dumpster.

I mentally curse my inattentiveness.

It's them.

The Bladebreakers.

* * *

'**;**.**;**'.**;**'**;**.'**;**.**;**'.**;**'**;**.'**;**.**;**'.**;**'**;**.'**;**.**;**'.**;**'**;**.'**;**.**;**'.**;**'**;**.'**;**.**;**'.**;**'**;**.'**;**.**;**'.**;**'**;**.'**;**.**;**'

**_End Chapter Twelve_…**

**… _To Be Continued_**

'**;**.**;**'.**;**'**;**.'**;**.**;**'.**;**'**;**.'**;**.**;**'.**;**'**;**.'**;**.**;**'.**;**'**;**.'**;**.**;**'.**;**'**;**.'**;**.**;**'.**;**'**;**.'**;**.**;**'.**;**'**;**.'**;**.**;**'

* * *

Yes, I am evil. I accept full responsibility (_evil chuckle_). 100+ reviews WOOT! (_does a dance_) You guys are amazing, even if the reactions for that interlude were mixed, I'm still happy I'm getting so many reviews! Thanks to all you wonderful people!

**Cailany: **YAY! Number 100! I jumped for joy when I saw this, hah, XD I can't believe I actually reached 100 reviews… I think I need to go lie down…XP Anyway, the guy in the last chapter, ah well, you've met him before! Do you remember, maybe, that creepy old man from Chapter… 9 I think? Hmmmm, so what does THAT mean? (_evil chuckle_). There was lotsa Kai in this chappie, so I hope you enjoyed!

**Raykou-Kun:** Heh, glad my interlude made you wonder. I hope you liked this chappie too!

**d1bontemp:** Heh heh, glad you thought Voran was creepy, it was my first attempt at something like that. At any rate, you really want Kai to meet up with the others, don't you? Ah, well, you're probably ready to kill me after reading the end of that chapter, so I'm gonna run away now! (_Ducks head as sharp objects come flying_) XD

**lady KCassandra:** Well, I guess we all have our own versions of bad weather; I mean, global warming makes the whole world warmer with the exception of where I live (you'd think there would FINALLY be good weather… but nooooo :P). Here, it gets colder sooner and longer. I guess it's true that we don't get many storms in Canada (that lightning storm you described sounded terrible!), and we don't really have water restrictions, but it's just so COLD here. Ah well, regardless of the weather, here's the next chappie, and it was very, very long, so I hope you enjoyed!

**BloodRedViolet: **Hiya! Thanks for reviewin'. Hmmm, now am I gonna make Kai and the others meet up soon? Well, (_looks up_) not in this chapter! (_Evil laughter_) Honestly, I'm wondering how long I'm gonna be able to stretch this before someone throws a spatula at me XD. But even still, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I know the plot is slow moving, but I didn't want to skimp on details, and I DID warn you:D Now as for your other question, as far as I can see, romance will not be a central matter in any shape or form. As a girl, I'd feel weird writing Yaoi (although I know others authors do it), I don't know, it's just not really my style, I guess. As for a straight romance, well, I refuse to pair Kai up with an OC (I fear I would turn her into a Mary Sue) I also don't plan on making my OC's too significant. Finally, as for pairing Kai up with an existing character… well, I just don't think any of the girls on the show are good enough for Kai… So I guess that's your answer! No significant romance, though I will try to make small intermitting scenes to keep everyone happy (I'm backing myself into a corner by saying that, but I there it is. If you have a specific pairing you like, other than the obvious KaiTala, KaiRei or KaiHilary then you can tell me and I'll see if I can cause a few unwitting encounters XP).

**phoenix-falling:** Mwah ha ha! Yes, there is MORE to this story than just the reunion! You know, when I first started writing this fic I was… 12, I think? But then I left it for a really long time… that's why my writing will hopefully be getting progressively better as we move along. Oh and I love long reviews! And since this was a super long chapter ;) (hint, hint) And being super evil to Kai is my specialty, that, and it's just way too much fun XD!

**wolf's lament:** Yes, the interlude was a bit short, and a few of the chapters might be short as well. The main reason for that is basically that I really want to keep up the 'update every 2 or 3 weeks' rate I've been trying to hold. If I made all my chapters longer, you'd have to wait longer, so I guess it depends on what you want. Anyway, as you can see from this chapter, there will be occasional chapters that are longer than the others, this one, for example, just wrote itself XD Anyway, hope you enjoyed!

**Miako6:** Ahh well, ya win some and you lose some; I guess it's the hazard of being a fanfic author: sometimes what you write just doesn't make the readers happy XP. You're expecting too much from me :3 This story is going to be very long, so sidetracks and tangents will occasionally occur; I have a tendency to do that. Also, it was an interlude, and I posted it right before my second round of midterms, so it was bound to be short. In general, there will be short chapters that pop up every now and again, I have to do that if I'm to update every two/three weeks. If I made each chapter longer, you'd have to wait longer for them to come out… it really depends on what you prefer, I guess. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter better, it was all Kai. And also your school system sounds interesting, different from here but it's all relative :)

**Libe:** Ahhh, yeah, after this chappie you're probably ready to kill me for the cliffy, so I'll make this short XD. Thanks for reviewing and I hope you liked this more than the interlude!

**FlamingIce94:** Oh my goodness! You compared me to Edgar Allen Poe! O.O Wow, thanks! Really, though, I got a few 'disappointed' reviews for that interlude so I'm SO glad you liked it! I think it must have been the mood I was in, which sort of carried over into this chapter (I couldn't help it though! Torturing Kai is just too much fun! XD). Anyway, really, really happy you liked the interlude and I hope you enjoyed this chappie!

**kavbj:** Hullo! So you figured who Voran is? That's great, I was wondering if that last reference I had made was too long ago for anyone to remember XD. It was kinda important for people to realize that he was the same guy Kai saw in the train, which is why I made it clear at the beginning of this chapter… so, didja get it right? Ohh, Banned from your computer for a week? That's evil, I don't think I could survive without my computer for a day (I mean, a girl's gotta check her e-mail for reviews! XP). And I admit, I've never seen Kai trying to kill an author, but I'd rather he didn't start with me! (Which is becoming more and more unlikely as I keep going unfortunately :D Hopefully I'm giving him too much grief to worry about for him to bother going after this poor author!) Anyway, yeah, I'm not too sure if calling all the big cats 'kitty' is a good idea… Actually when you said that, I was reminded of this African Safari thing I did once when I went to… Ontario, I think. We got to stay in our car and drive through this road which lead into all the enclosed animal areas… The lions were so close we could have opened the window and touched them! It was scary as anything, especially since it was feeding time and seeing them rip viciously into pieces of flesh only meters away from you is bound to be a little unsettling XD.

**Kyelor:** Yay! You noticed the connection between Voran and the weird man on the train! I think a lot of people didn't figure this out (maybe I was expecting too much XD) which is why I made it clear at the beginning of the chapter. I was trying a different sort of style than before, and although it got mixed reviews, I still think it was one of my better chapters (other than this one, which I also hope you liked). By the way, it's a deal: I don't mind waiting until you send the 'Breakers into the past, as long as you don't mind waiting for my plotline to develop (and don't throw anything pointy at me after this chapter, which I have a sinking feeling someone will do XP). I'm glad you didn't mind the shortness of the interlude, you're right about it changing the pace of the story, but also, I will use it on occasion in order to keep the 'update every two/three weeks' schedule I'm trying to keep. So unfortunately, as exams close in, the chapters might get a little shorter, I'm afraid. But for now, my second set of midterms is over, so here's a nice long chapter for you to enjoy! Oh and I enjoyed the super-long response you wrote to my review. It was really insightful to discover all the ideas and traits you had planned for the characters while you were writing them (Kai saying 'Please, no!' was actually funny when I read it XP). And I'm waiting on edge for your update (Tala IS difficult to portray, isn't he? Especially after the first season, it's is very much the prerogative of the author: how they want him to feel, act and think.). By the way, I hope there was enough description here! (Ehem-cough-not like the rooms in 'The Soul Sepulcher'-cough XD). It feels like I'm back on familiar ground writing this, the emotions and descriptions just came much more easily… OH! I just realized, I think I've been misspelling your penname over the past few chapters! If that's true then I'm really, REALLY sorry! (bows) I hope you weren't too annoyed at me for that! This coming from someone who named her story 'Sooryavansham', I really shouldn't be making mistakes like that! I'm very sorry, again!

**bladz-liska:** (_Gasp!_) I think this is the single, longest review I have ever received! Thank you so much! First let me say how much it means to me that you took the time to write such an in depth review (In a foreign language, no less! I'd never have the patience XD.). And for such a long review, a super long response is necessary, so (_takes a deep breath_) prepare yourself…!

First of all, I'm glad you like my Kai; I always detest the crybaby, weak, 'spends-more-time-in-the-hospital-than-out' Kai that many authors portray, so I try to keep him strong and proud. If I ever make him too weak though feel free to metaphorically smack me upside the head in a review XP. I was surprised though, when I read your interpretation of the prologue, mainly because it was almost exactly what I was thinking when I wrote it! I mean, I always wonder if I tend to babble, or write too much, or if the readers will ever understand all the tiny nuances I try to portray in my story. Your review has made me happy, because it shows me that I'm getting my message across and that it is appreciated! So thanks for that! For example, the spider event, and the puppet part were images that create strong impressions to _me_, I wasn't sure if they would work for the _reader_… But you got exactly the emotion and depth I was trying to portray, which is incredibly encouraging to me as an author.

Now as for the memory part, I think I understand what had you confused (please correct me if I'm wrong though :P). See, when I envisioned Kai, I saw a jaded, aloof, mature, intelligent and independent youth. However, for all his strengths he must have some faults. One of them, for me, is his age. Kai is too young to understand and accept some things. One of those things, I believe, would be how he was treated at the Abbey (and especially what happened to him at the hands of Boris). These flashes that Kai is having… well, they may or may not be memories (I'll leave you in the dark on that one for now XD)… but Kai absolutely _refuses_ to believe they are memories. Why? Because he doesn't want to believe it could have happened to him. Also, if they truly were memories, why would he be having them now, of all times? Why didn't he have them before, when he first came to Russia and met Boris a year ago? So you see, Kai has a reason for refusing to believe the memories are real. He thinks he was dreaming… or hallucinating. Of course, things have changed a bit, after this chapter (which I hope you liked, by the way!). Anyway, I hope that helped a little!

Also, I'm really glad you like Tyson and the others! Many readers just want me to write Kai chapters (hah ha). One of my goals for this story is to make it realistic, and include lots of little scenes between the characters. This will have the side effect of making the story really, _really_ long eventually, but I wanted to take the time to convey that everyone in the story has a life (Max has his parents and Kenny has his insecurities, for example), and it's not like they just spend every waking hour Beyblading or worrying about Kai (thought there will be much of that too, since I love making people talk and think about Kai XP). Oh, and yes! I never like it when the characters become weepy and angsty: crying every two minutes, it just isn't realistic! So I will try to keep them as in-character as possible.

Oh and as for the last chapter (the interlude), I think I confused at least half my readers with it (so you probably didn't misunderstand, since it was actually meant to confuse you XP). And many of my reviewers didn't really like it. The reason I included the interlude was to give a short break in the story, also to create suspense. Voran is the same old man Kai met on the train, and he _did_ something bad to Kai on the train. I wanted to tell the readers this, but couldn't figure out a good way to do it (since the story is written in Kai's point of view, and he doesn't know it happened). So the interlude was a solution to that. I was also trying a different way of writing (a bit darker and more vague), and it didn't really appeal to everyone… :)

Anyway, your review really made my day! I'm happy you found this story (and liked it!) Actually, I'm wondering, was it difficult to understand some things in my story? I mean, many of my reviewers, who speak English natively, didn't even understand all the words I use (or that Kai uses, specifically XP)! My aim in this story is to make it somewhat complex (grammatically and in the vocabulary it used) but I'm wondering if I've gone a little overboard… Should I continue writing in this style, or should I make it simpler? At any rate, your review was inspiring; I had a lot of fun reading it, thanks again… Oh! But one last thing I wanted to ask (and I hope I don't sound too foolish here!), I looked at your profile after you reviewed (ahh how I wish I could read Spanish…sadly, I'm Canadian, so our multilingualism extends only to a very base, butchered form of French XP), but the last thing you wrote in your review was 'Ikusi arte'… And that doesn't sound much like Spanish. But um… I was wondering, is it Basque for 'see you'? Or am I completely wrong here? ( I know that 'adio' means 'goodbye', but this is also true for many other languages). Ha ha, anyway, I loved your review and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

**canyx:** Heh, heh, Voran was an unusually fun character to write; I'm think I enjoy writing morbid characterization just a _little_ too much XP. Anyway, I'm glad you liked it, I kinda got a mixed response on that chapter, so I'm taking all that into account when I consider if I should do something like that again… At any rate, thanks for the review, and hope you liked the chappie!

**DancerInTheDark101:** XD You're too nice, seriously! When I wrote that I was amazed you were reading my fic, I was telling the truth! I really enjoy your style of writing and plotlines, and as a fellow author, I respect your opinion on my story; so it really means a lot to me that you read, and like my story! You see, I wrote the first few chapters of this fic perhaps… 4 or 5 years ago, (on paper). Then I left it for years, before returning only recently… Therefore I didn't see the first few chapters (up to, maybe, chapter 10), as up to the standard that I really wanted them to be, so I was honestly surprised at the reaction I received (I'm still in shock at passing the 100 mark XP). Anyway, as this story progress, I hope to let my writing style grow with it, it's one of my goals for this fic :D.

**Adio ppls! And review, after 6904 words (not including the author notes), you can certainly write a 20 word review!... please?**


	15. So It Begins

Chapter 13

Today we will be introducing a new concept: **the change in point of view**.

**¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤ **— Denotes a **change in perspective**. Don't worry. It will be clear.

**Disclaimer:** Ich ne own nada (four languages, four words, hey, I thought that was pretty good, XD)

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

_After the world championships in Russia, Kai just wanted to vanish. Then one day, inevitably, Kai is drawn back and ensnared in an intricate web of magic and legends; wrought by forsaken history and controlled by none other than Voltaire. _

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"_You can discover what your enemy fears most by observing the means he uses to frighten you."_

—Eric Hoffer (1902-1983)

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**Chapter 13: _So It Begins_**

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'**;**.**;**' _Half an Hour Earlier_

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"Where is Tyson?" Mr. Dickenson questioned apprehensively, glancing around Max and Rei to gaze further into the suspiciously empty hall; the young blader in question was nowhere in sight. "Everyone is in the lobby waiting, what happened to him?" Indeed, Kenny, Hilary and Mr. Tate, had been in the main reception room of the Hotel Alfa Izmailovo waiting a good half hour for the other half of their group.

Max and Rei exchanged a look between them that Mr. Dickenson interpreted, not without growing strain between his eyes, as abashedness.

"Uhh..."

"Umm..."

"Whoops..."

"Did I hear someone mention Tyson?" Alex Tate poked his head into the rather narrow corridor, before stepping in fully and squeezing into a spot next to his son. "Is he ready now?"

Rei gave a small sheepish laugh, ducked his head and put a hand to the back of it, scratching lightly. "Ahh, well, y'see..."

"Where is he?" Hilary's annoyed voice cut through Rei's stuttering explanation, as she too stuffed herself into the hall, right in the center of the group She snapped her head around to gaze at everyone. "I don't see him. Then again, I haven't heard any obnoxious yelling recently, so that should've tipped me off."

Max grinned benignly. "It's getting kinda crowded in here, dontcha think?"

"Jus' tell me where the lill' dude is, soz we kin kick off." Tyson's Grandfather added, somehow managing to squish himself in between Rei and Max.

Max and Rei heaved a sigh as one. "He's—"

"—Still asleep, isn't he?" finished a flat voice from somewhere below.

Rei looked downwards and threw the speaker a lopsided grin. "That's right, Kenny."

The sighs that filled the room were tumulus. Those that refrained themselves (Alex Tate) did so only barely.

Mr. Dickenson tugged at the tip of her mustache with clear worriment. "Oh dear, this isn't good. We were supposed to have left already, if we wait much longer, we'll be late! That's not good, not good at all, I have many important topics that simply must be discussed… and then there's the matter of arranging the comestibles…" his voice teetered into silence as he continued to mumble to himself.

"Which important topics?" Kenny interrupted curiously.

Mr. Dickenson appeared not to have hear for a moment, but then glanced up and to the side quickly, placing both hands on his walking stick. "We need to gather the managers of all the prominent beyblade teams in the world; the IBBA has suggested that we start a sort of council to discuss… well, certain _matters_." He hesitated for a moment, and his mustache twitched. "We need to decide if… if there will be a world class tournament this year or not."

This simple statement seemed to rock the three young bladers physically, while Alex, Hilary and Mr. Granger (who was surprisingly sober), looked on in silent curiosity.

_No Beyblading tournament!? The very thought was unthinkable!_

"They can't stop it!"

"We need that tournament! Bladers across the world wait year round for this event, it would devastate them!"

"Not to mention put me out of a job," Stanley Dickenson muttered so quietly no one seemed to have heard; though Alex looked over at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Why would they stop the competition?" Demanded Max, "it's been going on for years now."

Mr. Dickenson nodded. "Yes, but it had never come to the public's notice that the competition could become so… perilous. With all the dangerous bitbeasts you children have, it's really a surprise that more parents haven't complained."

"People have complained?" Rei asked with quiet confusion. The dangers of bitbeasts had never been an issue in his village. It was a source of pride to have a strong blade spirit, and it seemed absurd to fear that.

The elder man nodded once more. "Of course, mostly about the Demolition Boys. They say that 'children with questionable backgrounds and obvious violent tendencies' should be 'kept away from interaction with proper athletes', and be 'banned from participation.' "

"But that's not fair!" Cried Max indignantly. "Boris was the evil one!"

Mr. Dickenson nodded emphatically. "I agree completely..."

"Dudes," Mr. Granger smoothly interposed himself into the conversation. "I hate to interrupt, but we're ten minutes late."

"You're right." Hilary said authoritatively. "We need to get Tyson down here, _now_,"

Max, Rei and Kenny all exchanged glances then sighed. "This always happens in the morning." Max said as a poor excuse.

"Well son," Max looked up into his father's patient eyes. "How did you wake him up?"

The three boys shuffled around, though only from one foot to the other, as there was no more space for movement in the cramped corridor. It was Rei who finally gave an answer.

"Ah, well, Kai usually did that." He winced as a few groans met his ears. "None of us could ever get Tyson up," he finished lamely.

"Well, to be fair, we did put that chili pepper down his mouth that time during the Asian Tournament." Kenny speculated thoughtfully.

Max shook his head. "That wont work, Tyson realized awhile after that that he actually LIKES swallowing hot peppers."

"He really can eat anything, can't he?" Rei grinned at his friends and they shared a private chuckle. Hilary huffed; they were getting completely off topic! Even so, she couldn't help the next comment that escaped her:

"Good grief!" She tossed her head upwards, her hands were otherwise occupied: pinned to her sides by the people surrounding her. "Is there anything that this Kai of yours DIDN'T do?!"

Max shrugged nonchalantly. "We never really noticed that he would wake Tyson up every day."

"Yeah," Rei added, "just as sure as Max would be up all night if he had too many pixie stix—" here Max gave a short, affronted 'nuh-uh!' of disagreement, while his father chuckled; "—Kai would go into Tyson's room every morning and have Tyson running out screaming seconds later." Rei paused, then said "We got so used to it we didn't even think of waking him up today."

Kenny gave a quick nod, while pushing up his glasses on his nose.

Hilary, Mr. Tate and Mr. Dickenson, probably tired of groaning, all heaved hefty sighs while it was Tyson's grandfather's turn to chuckle quietly.

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10 minutes, 10 glasses of water and a complicated extraction from a narrow corridor—not necessarily in that order—later, a soaked Tyson was up, dressed, spruced and ready to be let out into the greater world.

Hilary poked at the mini-refrigerator that was only one of the many luxuries offered in the large stretch limo. "Wow," she breathed. "You guys sure get to travel in style. I'm glad I came."

"Wee!" Yelled Tyson as he stuck his head through the skylight. "YO! HI!" He yelled enthusiastically to random passerbys, all of whom stared at him with varying states of objurgation.

"Then again," the girl muttered, with half-lidded eyes, suddenly remembering the purpose for which she had come.

"Hey! Tyson! Get back in here! You're scaring the commonfolk!" Called Rei.

"And scarring them!" Hilary added helpfully, and was rewarded with a wry glance from Rei, to which she returned a cheeky smirk. Tyson eventually did slide back into the car and into his seat, where he slumped sullenly.

"You know," He pouted at length. "You didn't have to pour that pail of water on my head; I would have gotten up just fine if you'd called me."

Rei gave a snort of laughter while Hilary rolled her eyes with exasperation. "Just the fact that you didn't realize it took _**ten**_ _**glasses of water**_ says otherwise."

Tyson, although not following the entire sentence, did catch the most important part. His eyes widened. "TEN!?" He shouted, unfortunately right into Hilary's ear and she shied away with a wince and glare. "TEN!?" He repeated, insensitive to her reaction. Tyson looked to Rei, but the latter just shrugged noncommittally. "You didn't have to use so much water!" The shocked teen continued, quieter, but still quite loudly.

"Sorry, Tyson." said Rei, not insensitively. "But you sleep like a log; we had to."

"But—"

"Speaking of which," Max hastily interrupted, not wanting the conversation to deteriorate into a full blown argument. "How _did_ Kai used to get you up in the morning?"

This had the desired effect of grabbing Tyson's attention, and he spun around to face the blue eyes of his best friend. "I'm not telling you!" Tyson's voice held more than a hint of horror in it. "If I tell you than you'll start doing it too!" Max, who had asked the question mostly to divert Tyson's attention, had still been curious to find out the answer. But after a few moments of silence, he realized that Tyson was telling the truth and was not going to be forthcoming with an answer. With a sigh, he sat back, letting himself be drawn into a conversation with his father

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Idle chatter filled the car for some time until Tyson noticed that the limo was slowing to a stop near a large building. "Hey, I think we're here!" He informed the group excitedly.

"Already?" Kenny pulled himself out of his computer's monitor, blinking owlishly behind his large glasses at the natural light—so oddly different than the familiar digital one—with dubiousness.

"Honestly chief," answered his sentient laptop with condescension "You need to pay more attention to your surroundings."

Everyone exited the car—Kenny fingering his laptop closed, slightly earlier than he reasonably would have had to—and as a group they walked up to the large building.

"Wait, this is the same place where we had the world championships last year!" Rei exclaimed, "The palace of the Czar, that's what Kenny said, right?" Kenny nodded and Hilary, who had studiously been doing a mental log of when the building could have been constructed, glanced over at Rei, then Kenny before switching back, giving the Pavilion an appraising eye. She looked at it differently now, realizing it as one of those places spinning top maniacs gathered. _Nice place, _she thought. _Definitely, more than what I thought would be in a geek party's funding._

Mr. Dickenson nodded. "Indeed it is. Interestingly enough, the Moscow Pavilion was recommended originally by one of the lesser parties in—" He paused and looked around, realizing no one was listening he was about to turn and proceed silently, but Hilary bounced up to walk up with him and they, along with Mr. Tate, continued the conversation on the building's politics.

"Wow, who woulda guessed we'd be back here?" Max murmured, staring at the large, severe building.

Just then, Rei's sensitive ears, picked the very slightest of sounds, and his skin prickled as though he was being watched. Spinning around, he his gaze flicked down a dark alley; pinpricks of light within the shadows caught his eye, but when he blinked, the only thing he could see was darkness.

'_Strange'_ He mused, flicking a long tongue over his front teeth. '_I could have sworn I saw a pair of red eyes...'_

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Pressing my back hard against the wall, I use every intrinsic instinct I possess, to keep myself hidden.

'_I can't believe Rei almost saw me.'_ That was horribly incompetent of me; what would Grandfather have said?

I shake my head then.

'_Why am I thinking about him? I don't have to impress him anymore. It must be this impeding reunion; it is affecting me more than I had thought.'_ The sound of a voice halts me from continuing my mental berating.

"Just wait a second, I want to check out something over there." Rei's voice comes floating over from the mouth of the alley. '_Beautiful,'_ the sarcasm is so evident in my head that my lips are nearly pulled into a scowl. '_Only Rei would wander off to check out suspicious activity down a dark alley in a foreign country,'_

Technically, I could wait, reunite with my old team before the meeting, but the idea hits me as so incredibly repulsing that I am scanning the walls of the alley for an escape before I have even made my decision.

'_I will meet them when I meet them.'_ My mind reconciles smoothly. '_It doesn't have to be now.'_ Just then I spot one of those odd, folded, rusty fire escapes hanging a few feet above my head.

I smirk.

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"Where ya goin', Rei?" Tyson lazily rolled his head to the side, staring at his friend.

"I thought I saw something," Came the distracted reply as Rei cautiously poked his head into the alley.

"Do you see anything?" Came Hilary's impatient question.

"You know, seeing things is how all the horror movies start," Kenny said innocently. "Then, as night begins to fall, the heroes all begin to disappear one by one, dragged down to the monster's dark catacombs to be slowly devoured by the waiting hatchlings..." The bespectacled boy's voice trailed off ominously as he raised an eyebrow. Tyson seemed to be humoring him, making weird gagging noises on the side, while Max stared with wide eyes, slightly put on edge in spite of himself. Hilary didn't believe a word of it and turned away, betrayed by her fellow intellectual.

Rei meanwhile backed out of the dark alley, rolling his eyes at his friends' drama. "You can relax; no monster nests here. In fact, there's nothing at all."

Tyson heaved an exaggerated sigh of relief, and Hilary just sighed. Max felt a small knot of tension relax within him, not that he would have admitted it. As they hurried to catch up to the adults, the blond noticed that Rei seemed unnaturally sullen after that event.

"What's the matter Rei? You look down about something." Max asked gently.

Rei glanced back at the alley. "It's nothing. I just thought I saw something... red eyes... staring at us."

Tyson whirled around immediately. "Red? Are you sure? People don't have red eyes... Except... the only one I've met with red eyes was—"

"Kai." Finished Rei quietly.

"You think Kai was in that alley?" Hilary asked, lowering her eyebrow doubtfully. Rei nodded.

"As implausible as it is." Kenny jutted in, with a professorial voice. "Even if you DID see Kai it is fairly dubious—taking his past actions and what I have observed of his personality traits—that he would allow you to espy him before he is properly prepared. Although there is a good possibility that he will be attending the reunion. But speaking of probabilities, I'm afraid that there is a 7 to 2 probability ratio that what you saw was merely a rat or any of the various rodents of _Rattus—_" He hesitated and thought for a moment "—and related genera of the family _Marialae, _most probably a carrier of the recessive genetic disorder known as albinism. Or it cold be an escaped lab testing rodent, one can never be sure."

There was a pause as everyone halted to process this information. Or tried.

"Righhhhhhhht..." Tyson drawled, utterly flummoxed. "Anyway, basically we'll see him eventually, right? So let's go join Gramps and the others, and let's hurry. I'm hungry."

Hilary raised an eyebrow. "What does that have anything to do with it?"

Kenny adjusted his glasses and opened his mouth to speak. Before any words could be uttered though, a voice from the laptop in his hands interrupted:

"Do the words 'all you can eat buffet' mean anything to you?"

Hilary laughed, "Yeah, you're right. Wow, I didn't know you were on, Dizzy."

"Yup." The trapped bitbeast replied. "But I can't see you because _someone_ didn't leave my screen up."

Kenny sighed, more than a hint of annoyance in his tone. "Dizzy, we're walking; I can't keep you up while we're moving, honestly."

Tyson laughed. "Hey, cool it Chief, she's only teasing."

"Hmph." Was all the reply he gained from the mousy haired boy. '_I can't believe she made a fool of me again!'_ was the bitter commentary inside Kenny's head. '_If she keeps doing that, I'm going to leave her in the hotel the next time we go out.'_

"Come on," said Max, running ahead. "Let's go inside, Mr. D, Mr. G and Dad must already be in there."

"Ok," was the group consensus and they ran together towards the Pavilion.

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I watch from my perilous perch—no alliteration intended—as my old team and some girl rush towards the building. As they disappear past the front doors, I slowly unwind from the squatting position I had maintained on a ledge atop the tall building with the fire escape. It took a few creative bounds and kicking off the wall, but I had managed to grab the ladder and heave myself upwards until reaching the roof of the building on which I am now resting.

'_Hn, not as rusty as I would have thought after a year.'_ I muse silently, after all, it's not like I had made an effort to maintain all the strange abilities I seem to have.

'_At any rate... so, Kenny has formulated an entire conjuncture on how he believes my psychology will drive my actions? Interesting, I had no idea I was quite so predictable.'_

I back away from my position on the edge of the building and lie back so can watch the clouds.

"Well, Dranzer, Kenny was right. I will be going to the reunion. However, it is only eight thirty now. I'll give them twenty, twenty-five minutes to get over their horror at my lack of punctuation, then we shall see..." I close my eyes and smirk. "I know Grandfather will be watching avidly—or at least as avidly as his stone cold heart will allow him—for my appearance. At the very least he faces inculpulation for child endangerment, negligence or something to that effect. He needs me, for once." My eyes open and the smirk deepens into something more malevolent.

'_I would bet he has even shown up __**early**__ for the meeting' _As a status quo, Russians never show up on time for meetings, preferring instead to test the foreigner's patience by arriving one to two hours late…

'_How amusing.'_

"I want him to squirm, Dranzer. I want him to experience fear...the mind numbing terror of someone having complete control over your life...just as I did at his feet for so many years."

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**_End Chapter Thirteen_…**

**… _To Be Continued_**

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Heh heh...So... No reunion yet!... Heh heh... (_runs and hides_)

**Raykou-Kun:** Nope no reunion… Aie, I hope you're not too disappointed!

**kavbj:** Ha ha, yeah, the 20 word thing was SO not geared towards you! I was trying to incite some of the readers who've been cranking up my hits, but not posting reviews! But dude, you don't want my brain, there's so many _weird_ things going on in there that I have no space for school or work (I mean, my story ideas come when I'm trying to study financial accounting, how's THAT for strange? Maybe, eventually I'll integrate that into my story… Kai doing the bills, ha!). You know, I've never even HEARD of gridline! Probably 'cause I'm Canadian XD… the only sport we've got 'round these parts is hockey (_shudder_, how awful)… But that's good that the boys think you're a legend (I had that for a VERY short amount of time when I showed promise at hackeysack…_rolls eyes_…) But yeah, you're lucky, I never even had a date to my prom (_cries_), the only boys I seem to attract are the weirdo stalkers and the freaky 'I'm-too-sexy-for-my-soap-bar' creeps XP… oh well, here's hoping that Kai will someday spontaneously pop out of the TV screen and fall madly in love with me :D! I know everyone was expecting some dramatic reunion thing in this chapter, but I hope you weren't too disappointed ;P

**Cailany:** Heh heh…glad you liked the chappie… but, yeah, Kai wasn't _exactly_ spotted. Hey what can I say?! He has to stay in character, and Kai would NEVER let himself be spotted before he was ready!

**Canyx:** Ummmm… you might have to wait a LITTLE bit longer. Kai didn't want to be spotted so he ran up a building, what can I say? He's a tricky, antisocial little blighter… yes, I said blighter…XD… Oh and I hope you haven't been reading this story just for the reunion, 'cause it really is NOT the main part of this story. I'm trying to keep the story plot full and multi-dimensioned, with lots of side plots and mysteries, so I hope you're also enjoying the other small character building scenes and stuff…

**FlamingIce94:** Wow, thanks, I'm glad you like my Kai, I love him too! (_Huggles_ _squeaky Kai plushie—1__st__ Season version, with scarf, of course XD)_ I spent a LOT of time deciding what I wanted his character to be like ( I even wrote up a small analysis of him! Yeah... I'm not _obssessed,_ XP) so it's good to know that you like it! I hope you don't mind waiting for Kai to meet the Bladebreakers, I know it seems like I'm making you wait forEVER, but it's unintentional (REALLY!). Also, I have a few issues between the 'Breakers that need to be brought to the light before Kai makes his entrance.

**Charlie Jenny:** Eek! I hope two weeks wasn't too long for you to wait! Please don't hit me over the head with a toiletsink! (...wait, a toiletsink!? Why a toiletsink?!... Um on second thought… never mind… I don't think I want to know… XD). I THINK the reunion will be good, but you still might have to wait awhile, there is a bit of back-story and side-plot that needs to be revealed first. I hope you're not too disappointed XP. Anyway, thanks for reviewing!

**phoenix-falling:** Hee hee, well, if the long chapters take too long to read, here's a SHORTER chapter for you! (_evil grin_) Glad you liked the Abbey flashback. In reality what I first had in mind for that chapter included only half of that flashback, but as I was writing it, it just kept going, and _going_… Oh and all that smart stuff that Kai was thinking… well… lemme say one word: 'wikipedia'… yeah XD. I know you're looking forward to the reunion, but I hope you like all the other stuff that's going on… also Kai has officially decided to be late for the reunion, so you might have to wait…a little…longer… (_backs away from angry glares directed at author_)… XD

**lady KCassandra:** Hey, to answer your questions: Kai is 15 years old (however, the year is ending, so everyone will eventually be turning a year older) and as far as we know, he has 2 tattoos: the triangles on his face and the five teardrops on his wrist. Thanks for the review!

**Libe:** Heh heh… lemme guess, I'm 'crueler' now? XP

**Miako6:** Hmmm, they didn't QUITE find him, YET… sorry, but I had to keep Kai in character, and he would never have let the 'Breakers find him THAT easy! You know, I had a story that I didn't update for a year… I lost all my reviewers… yeah, that wasn't fun… Anyway, thanks for the review!

**d1bontemp:** Hi! Yeah, the 20 word think was geared to all those readers who've been raising my hits level to new levels and not leaving a review! But I really appreciate how you're reviewing every chapter of this fic, it means a lot to me! XD Yup, Kai is left-handed, and even HE didn't know it! Shocking huh? And yeah, he's supposed to be very good at hiding stuff, it's one of the traits I'm trying to convey about him…Oh and I did SO MUCH research for that chapter: it had to be intelligent and insightful, since it was KAI thinking about it. At some point I was wondering if anyone would even notice (everyone just wants me to hurry up and get to the reunion!) so you basically made my day! But yeah, everything Kai said about history was true, but the interpretations were subjective and I tried to make them cynical enough to match Kai's character… I hope I managed to pull that off okay.

**wolf's lament:** Heh heh, nope, they didn't notice him yet! XD I've still got some playing around to do with them before Kai can show himself (plus I figured that he'd never let them catch him, even if he had to run up a building to avoid them XP). Anyway, I'm gonna try to keep my update schedule for as long as I can, I have a lot of this story written down on paper, now there's just the problem of transferring it and editing (which takes a lot longer than one'd think XD), but hopefully I'll at least make it to the reunion before anything messes up my schedule (or I'll have many angry readers after me!)

**Same Anonymous:** XD Ha! You SO did that on purpose! You know, when I read your review I actually went back and counted all the words; when I came up with exactly 20 I cracked up :D So yeah, thanks for making my day, and for the nice review!

**Retaro0:** Wow… You actually read this whole thing in one day!? AND Left a review!? At 2 in the morning no less! O.O Thanks! That's amazing… Oh and yeah, I think that should solve the evil cliffhanger problem (though I'm not exactly sure if my solution is what you wanted to happen…(_evil chuckle) XD_). Anyway, I'm looking forward to that meaningful review _(leans forward expectantly)_… No pressure now! XP

**bladz-liska:** YAY! Another super-long review! Now, of COURSE I'd put attention into my response to your review; it wouldn't feel right if I didn't spend at least as much effort as you in responding, after you took the time to review my story! Anyway, about Kai's notoriety: I figured that the Abbey seemed like such a prestigious institute, yet everyone in Russia MUST know that evil things are going on in there (especially after the Championships last year). So people fear/hate anyone who has been trained there… this goes double for Kai, who is not only a past elite of the Abbey, but also Voltaire's grandson! This will bring up some problems, which I may address later. Also, I tried to make Kai smart, which is why I included all that history in the beginning of the chapter, sorry if it was a bit wordy XP! Oh and you understood my idea of Black Dranzer completely! Kai is drawn to Black Dranzer because he gives Kai something Kai always wanted…power and completeness… But Black Dranzer didn't think Kai could control him… then he saw how devoted Kai is to Dranzer and how Kai can CONQUER Black Dranzer with that devotion. Black Dranzer _wants_ that power…Hmmm…Oh and all your questions WILL be answered. I know it seems like I just keep giving you more questions and problems (a problem I've been realizing as I keep writing XD), but I was a reason for EVERTHING that happens in this story… the hallucinations, Voran, Boris, Black Dranzer, even Mr. Tate's sudden interest in Kai will all be explained… It might just take awhile for it to happen (_Evil grin_). Ha ha! You were right! No reunion in this chapter! Sorry, but there're STILL a few things I want to happen before they meet (you'd be surprised at how long I can make half an hour! XD). Anyway, thanks for telling me about 'Ikusi arte'; I'm enlightened :3. It's true though, I've never seen Basque used in a fic before… then again, I've never seen Hindustani used either (Sooryavansham is Hindi for "The Dynasty of the Sun") so… yeah… go us! Oh and, I am SO glad you wrote more than 20 words… just pretend that I never said anything about it :D

**Adio!**


	16. Tales of a Traitor

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Chapter 14

I can't believe another semester of University is over… I just finished my last exam two days ago… Aie…

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Beyblade; Beyblade is copyright Takao Aoki. Also I realize that there's some controversy concerning whether or not Kai is Russian: the anime says he is, while the Manga says he's Japanese. Let me say that in my fic, after the Russian finals, everyone ASSUMES Kai is Russian. Whether he actually IS or ISN'T… is another matter altogether!

Enjoy!

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

_After the world championships in Russia, Kai just wanted to vanish. Then one day, inevitably, Kai is drawn back and ensnared in an intricate web of magic and legends; wrought by forsaken history and controlled by none other than Voltaire. _

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"_There are two ways to slide easily through life; to believe everything or to doubt everything. Both ways save us from thinking"_

—Alfred Korzybski (1879-1950)

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**Chapter 14: _Tales of a Traitor_**

"Tyson, listen, you can't just run up to him, threaten him, and expect him to spill his guts!" Max cried as he held tightly onto a struggling Tyson.

"I don't care, Maxie! I just want to strangle him!" Yelled the navy haired teen as he twisted within his friend's grasp.

"Listen Tyson, I know you don't like it, but there's nothing we can do. Nothing will change what's happened." Rei's voice came as a calm attempt at mediation.

Tyson faltered. "But..."

"Tyson," Mr. Tate said, coming behind the boys, his eyes shrewd as they assessed the man Tyson had attempted to assault. "Voltaire Hiwatari may perhaps be the scum of the earth, but he is very powerful and smart scum. Right now he is virtually untouchable, that is most especially true here in Russia. The way I've heard it, he gets people thrown in jail for just looking at him wrong." Tyson's eyebrows went up, then furrowed.

Ryu Granger walked up to stand near the group, laying a hand gently on his grandson's shoulder. "Besides, Mr. D says we have no proof of what's he's done. We have to let it go for now, little dude."

Tyson made a noise of frustration, and shook off the hand, which Mr. Granger then let fall to his side. "I can't stand it though!" Tyson groused. "The way he just talks and laughs, like nothing's wrong. He should be guilty, or worried… Why isn't he in jail!?"

Kenny shifted nervously. "Well, in all reality, Voltaire was never convicted of anything. It wasn't actually proven that he was trying to take over the world… For all we know Biovolt is just a very extremely intense training center—"

Tyson spluttered. "They can't actually BELIEVE that—"

"It's _possible_." Kenny insisted, with a small frown. "I mean just because Russians do things differently—"

"Kai said so himself that his Grandfather was using him to steal all the bitbeasts in the world." Rei said calmly, but firmly. "And Mr. D said much the same."

"Well, when it comes to bitbeasts and power, Kai's view is sometimes a bit _skewed_ don't you think?" Kenny muttered. Max watched as Tyson snorted a 'ya think?' out and Rei's face darkened. He quickly moved to stop the impending argument.

"Kenny…" Was all the blond said, but it got the point across, the younger boy backed off.

"Fine, fine. Say Mr. Dickenson was right and Voltaire was up to something. But…_taking over the world_?" The skepticism in his voice was palpable but luckily, no one said anything. "You have to admit, that's a bit… ambitious, even for him. Voltaire's smarter than that."

"Even if it wasn't the world he was after then, he was still after _something._ And now, that something included hurting Kai. We can't let him get away with that." Rei said solemnly. Tyson and Max gave quiet agreements.

"But that's just my point!" The mousy haired boy protested. "Voltaire might not have done anything! Every family has their own way of working out their issues, just because Voltaire is a bit more strict— "

"A _bit_?!" Tyson choked.

Kenny continued as though he hadn't been interrupted. "—than most parents doesn't automatically mean he hurts Kai. He COULD be innocent. After all, Kai could be staying with a friend, or a distant relative. Or he could just be off alone somewhere, it's not like he has never done that."

Rei shook his head, his long wrapped hair waving like a tail behind him. "That couldn't be, Mr. D said they searched for Kai. And after all, relatives would be the first thing they checked out, wouldn't it? How often does someone drop off the face of the Earth?"

Kenny still looked unconvinced, but didn't say anything more. He didn't like being ganged up on.

Max shifted, deciding to break the uneasy silence that had fallen. "Look, guessing theories won't help, let's enjoy the moment for now. Everything will eventually work out."

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At the buffet table, the former Bladebreakers joined Hilary while Mr. Tate and Mr. Granger headed off to speak with Mr. Dickenson.

"You managed to catch him, I see." Hilary noted, nodding in Tyson's direction.

Rei threw her a grin. "Yeah, Max caught him and I talked sense into him." Kenny raised an eyebrow but remained silent.

Tyson snorted. "You make me sound like a two year-old."

Max mirrored Rei's grin. "You were doing a pretty good job of that yourself."

"Hey!"

Max laughed. "Don't worry Tyson; you're still our best friend."

Tyson frowned for a second but Rei quickly changed the topic. "Hey guys, I just noticed something weird. Look, there's no one else here yet except the Demolition Boys, weird, huh?"

Max and Tyson looked around before agreeing. The waiting room itself was not the beyblading arena, nor was it the board room where the meeting would take place. Instead it was a smaller room situated adjacent to the stadium. Even still, the room was large enough to fit all five teams and their managers comfortably—roughly 30 to 40 people—furnished well with large sofas, the stained wood, oval buffet table, grandiose sweeping curtains all set in contrast to the dark wooden floor and a high, sloping ceiling.

Put together, it was actually quiet cozy, the only possible damper on the atmosphere being the dark figures of Voltaire and Boris in the corner. The two laughed and drank blood red wine together (which had come from an unknown source as no strong drinks were being offered at the table) while Tala, Bryan, Spencer and Ian sat sprawled but oddly static on a nearby sofa or stood stoically tall nearby. They were still and stone faced, neither eating nor talking. The Bladebreakers had neither spoken nor made eye contact with the other team since they had arrived, but each boy had silently noticed how pale the Abbey boys looked. Tala in particular, who's face was so ashen in contrast to his gleaming aquamarine eyes that his entire countenance was ghastly; otherworldly. The vacant expression he wore didn't exactly contest that point.

"Do you think we should talk to them?" Max whispered to Tyson.

Tyson grumbled. "But _I Don't Like Them_ Maxie."

"Kai betrayed our team to join theirs." Rei reminded pointedly. "You're still willing to defend him."

Tyson made a noise in the back of his throat. "That's DIFFERENT. Kai and I fight, sure, but he's like... like... like a big brother, or something. He always pulls through when he has to. Sure he made some screw ups, but he came BACK."

"Don't forget Rei," Dizzy spoke up for the first time, unforgiving logicality in her tone. "You almost did the exact same thing."

Hilary, hearing this, suddenly became interested in the conversation again. She raised an eyebrow at Rei, not having pegged him as the double-crossing type. "You did?" she prompted.

Rei sighed. "I _almost_ did." He clarified. "But Tyson and Max talking me out of it, and later Kai added his own two cents." '_Or rather, a brutal rendition of the quote 'Gotta be cruel to be kind'.' _Rei's mouth quirked with irony. He could still remember exactly how the whole thing had happened...

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'**;**.**;**' _Flashback...Rei's Point of View _'**;**.**;**'

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Tyson jumps up into the air pumping his fist wildly.

"Yeah, go Rei! Way to make the right choice!"

I grin a bit. I'm glad they're accepting me back so quickly; I mean, why should they? I almost betrayed them less than an hour ago!

Max smiles at me innocently. "I'm glad you're back Rei." He says quietly, and I can see the honesty shining in his eyes. "Bitbeast or not, you're still a Bladebreaker."

The grin gets larger. "Thanks."

As Max and Tyson give each other high fives, I silently follow them down the narrow path cut into the rocky mountain. '_They're so... innocent, so naïve. They don't even realize how much the White Tigers mean—meant—mean... Uh! Even I don't know what to think!'_ I shake my head, and bump right into Tyson.

"Wha?" Oh, are we here already? But why'd we stop?

"Uh…Hey Kai, what's up?" Tyson's nervous voice comes like a ringing death toll.

'_Kai?_ _What's KAI doing here, of all times! Shouldn't he be off skulking slash training to death?'_

"I need to speak to Rei." His deep cold tone cuts through my thoughts. Note the lack of '_with'_ Rei. He is going to speak '_to'_ Rei; and what ever happened to asking for permission before yanking someone off? I refuse to be ordered around! Nonetheless I stiffen; all thoughts of innocence and naïvety flee from my mind.

'_Uh-oh.'_

"Alone." His voice is a nail in my coffin.

'_Uh-oh times 10, I am so dead.' _I silently pray that Max and Tyson won't leave me alone with Kai and his death glare...

"Uh, sure, dude" says Tyson, just a little too quickly, and in a flash, he and Max have darted past me, sending me fleeting sympathetic looks. I return these with the best frown of betrayal I can without being too obvious in front of Kai, but that doesn't stop them from dashing around the gates and out of sight. I watch their retreating forms enviously.

'_Cowards.'_

Gingerly, I look forwards again, expecting to be hit with a glare.

And shock of shocks! There's no sign of anger in his eyes. He's just staring back at me. Then, suddenly and without a single word, he turns, beckoning over his shoulder for me to follow.

I do, hesitantly. Very hesitantly. And gingerly.

Kai leads me straight to a beydish, and I look at it, then him, one eyebrow arched. What is he up to? Is he taking me here so he can rub it in that I don't have a bitbeast? He puts one hand carefully into his pocket and draws something out; when he opens his fist I see in the center of his palm, Dranzer.

Sharply, I suck in some air between my teeth. Sure I just beat Tyson without a Bitbeast, but I don't stand a chance against Kai and Dranzer! What does he think he's doing? I _know_ he's good, he doesn't have to keep flaunting it all the time, he's so self absorbed!

I watch, silently seething, as my sour-puss Captain (Tyson was probably right all along) places his other hand on top of Dranzer. I reach for my blade as well, I may not have Driger, and maybe I'll lose against him, but I will _not_ let him walk all over me.

_Snap!_

I freeze. My hand drops from where it had been reaching towards my pocket and I watch, incredulous, as Kai draws his hand away and, as nonchalantly as though he were flipping stones, turns his hand over so that Dranzer and his blade—separated—fall into two different hands.

Kai carefully replaces his Dranzer bit within his pocket.

And he still hasn't looked at me, much less said a word!

"Why—"

My question goes forever unasked as Kai without any warning, spins around and launches his beastless beyblade into the bowl. The landing is beathtakingly perfect: a 45 degree half point that hits the dish at the exact part of the curve opposite him such that it's sent spinning around the bowl, halfway up, at almost twice the speed of a normal launch. All accomplished without so much as an exhalation on his part.

But in reality, I was only able to make that assumption later, since I had been so taken aback when Kai launched so suddenly, I had started backwards. I think my only coherent thought was:

'_Wow, he's fast!'_

Kai looks at me and then I understand. He wants a match. Gone are the upset thoughts about a show-offish Captain and a feral grin curls my lip over my canines. Kai's Dranzer is powerful, but without her I am _sure_ I can win. He may be quick to launch but I know how to handle my blade now.

I quickly pull out my launcher and toss my blade into the dish, immediately willing it to attack Kai's, almost before it's even landed. I watch with baited satisfaction as they collide, expecting Kai's blade to go flying. Indeed it does, but not in the direction I had planned.

"What?"

My eyes track the path of the blade, disbelieving, as it corkscrews up into the air, higher and higher it goes… Until it begins to fall.

With startling clarity I realize what's happening.

It is well known that beyblades are powered by energy. Whether it is the electrical energy created by the rotor motor, or any other kind of energy: thermal, nuclear, even that of the blader, it all works on a beyblade. It is a simple fact that beyblades spin faster and stronger in a desert than a tundra.

A bitbeast too, adds its energy to the blade and through the link a blader has with his beast he can provide his own energy to the blade, powering it. This leads to one of the biggest reasons why a blader never battles without his bitbeast; being completely cut off from the battle, the simplest of commands taking great concentration, is excruciating.

What I had forgotten, and what I imagine many bladers had never even realized, is that gravity too is a source of energy.

Kai's blade drops, spinning many times faster than before, and even though I try to move out of the way, its decent is too fast and the point of the blade lands on the side of mine, spinning it sideways and sending it flying right out of the bowl.

Only by reflex do I manage to throw my hand up in time to catch my blade, then I stand there, eyes wide with shock.

I watch, dumb, as Kai calls back his own blade. Not even sparing me a glance, he reaches into his pocket and with infinite care, replaces Dranzer on the top of his blade, then calmly places her into his pocket.

Meanwhile, my mouth must be hanging two inches off the ground. I can't believe it! I just beat Tyson, and his Dragoon, and now it didn't even take Kai 20 seconds to send me flying... _without Dranzer_!

Kai exhales softly and turns to perch on a rock. He still hasn't looked at me. "Sit." he orders. "And close your mouth, it's uncouth."

With a snap, I bring my jaws together, and gingerly I perch next to my mysterious coach, wondering what he could possibly want.

A minute passes in silence,

Then a few more, and still he says nothing, he's just sitting there, one knee drawn to his chest with an arm wrapped round it, the other arm supports his weight on the rock while his head is titled back, just enough to rest on the tree behind him. His eyes are closed and if I didn't know that he barely sleeps at night, let alone during the day, I would have said he was off in dreamland.

Finally I can't take it anymore.

"How did you—?" I don't even get to finish before he begins talking; his voice unhurried and deep.

"It must have been quite a meeting between you and Mariah." My jaw drops again. "You have gotten sloppy and distracted... And what did I tell you about unhinged jaws?" He says this all without moving an inch, even his eyes stay closed.

"I—What!? How—" I blunder to get out the right words. "How did you know about Mariah? And do you mean sloppy? How can you tell my mouth is open if you never looked?"

Kai's eyes open into slits and shift so he's looking at me sideways. His look has the odd effect of making his eyes glitter, like a gemstone... perhaps, maybe, in amusement? But then it's gone as his eyes close and he leans back into the tree.

"Curiosity killed the cat." He deadpans in such a serious voice that I blink... '_Did he just make a joke? Or is he serious?'_ But the corner of his lips tightens and I realize he's smirking. '_Whew,'_ I allow myself to relax, pushing my bottom lip out in a sulky pout. '_I really hate that saying.' _But after a moment, when no good smart comebacks come to mind, I settle with a lame "That's not nice."

"True, perhaps" he intones thoughtfully. "But then, who has ever accused me of being nice?"

I raise one eyebrow and the beginning of a sarcastic grin tugs at my mouth. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

'_You're having a conversation with Kai!'_ My mind can't move on from this. '_KAI!_ _King of long-suffering stoicism is actually talking... to you!'_ I ignore my disbelief, I want to know what's causing this odd behavior from my usual one-syllable-is-one-too-many Captain.

"Perhaps," he repeats. "But were I nice, I would tell you that you were brilliant in your execution when you battled me; if I were nice, I would tell you that the loss of your beast was through no fault of your own and if you pray really hard at night," I'm sure I hear his voice twist with cynicism here. "You will most certainly get your tiger back..." He stops and silence falls. The more words he says though, the angrier I get. How dare he imply that I'm a bad blader, that Driger left me, that all this is _MY_ fault!

Suddenly Kai spins around, sliding off the rock and staring down at me, I quickly rise, maybe I am shorter than him, but there's no way I'm going to just let him tower over me!

"But I am not nice." Kai's voice is dead serious, and he takes a step forward, I move back. "And I _will_ tell you that your technique is weak, your mind otherwise absorbed. You are a sentimental fool and a coward—"

"Ex_cuse _me?" I refuse to take this from anyone, Kai is no exception. "I—"

"No, you are not excused." He mocks acidly. "Certainly not if I am correct in my assumption: that you did meet Mariah at the summit and that you nearly forsook our team."

I can feel my temper snap as my pupils constrict into the cat-like slits inherited from my clan's ancestors. "What do you know?" I challenge, suddenly assertive, I walk forwards and shove him back a little. "Nothing! Who are you to talk to me like that? Captains are supposed to _support_ their team, not beat them down. How dare you have such little faith in me?"

My hands are clenched into fists, almost in a fighting position, but when Kai grabs me by the upper arms and literally slams me into a tree, I realize how much of my act was only that—an act. I look up, startled, into his blazing eyes and I know I'm in big trouble. Then, without warning, he breaks away from me as though I've burned him. He turns sideways, and doesn't say anything for awhile.

"Listen Rei," He's speaking very quietly, but for some reason I can hear every word. "I am neither blind nor foolish. I can see that you have a special relationship with that girl. But that does not give you the right to allow your loyalties to waiver. The White Tigers were once your team, they do not remain so. They were once your friends, they forwent that privilege when they stole Driger, and they do not remain so. Should you choose to run back to them like a beaten puppy, then perhaps, yes, perhaps, you will regain the body of your beast…If your new captain does not hold prior claim." He pauses and I swallow convulsively, I had not thought of that possibility; Lee has always had his eye on Driger, of course he would want him...But Mariah...

"But what of your beast's spirit?" Kai looks at me sideways and I find myself involuntarily fidgeting under his intense stare. "You must prove yourself worthy of your Tiger; you must regain Driger on your own. Only then will you prove, not to them, but to yourself, that you are worthy and that you can stand alone. What do you think Mariah would prefer?" Those words are so close to my own thoughts that I snap my gaze up to stare at him, but he's already walking away, leaving me speechless.

Just before his flying scarves disappear into the growing dark, his last words float back to me.

"Your Tiger is a beast of courage Rei, how can you expect him to return to a cowardly master? Fix it; I want to see a change in you tomorrow."

I grip Driger's empty blade fixedly and stare unseeing at the spot where Kai had disappeared. First a few drops fall, but soon it's pouring on me. I don't move.

'_Kai's right.'_ I realize with sudden insight. '_I can't sit on the fence, I have to choose one side or the other and stick with it. Then Driger will return, eventually'_ I blink, and suddenly my eyes focus. The words forming are so foreign and unnatural on my tongue that they only come out as a whisper.

"Thanks, Kai."

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'**;**.**;**' _End Flashback...End Rei's Point of View _'**;**.**;**'

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"But no one tried to talk Kai out of his decision." Max said sadly.

"We just walked away... we _knew_ something was wrong, since when did Kai get sick anyway?" Rei muttered. At Hilary's questioning look, Kenny elaborated.

"It was the excuse they used to keep Kai at the Abbey. They said he was sick and had to stay overnight, by the next day he had completely changed. We did eventually confront him and bring him back—"

"But not soon enough!" Rei interrupted sharply. "We couldn't even tell he was having problems until he disappeared! We didn't even know he was Russian for goodness sake! We just waited and expected him to come around, and when he didn't we called him a traitor, a selfish snake who quit our team for power."

"Well, he did!" Tyson shot back stubbornly.

Hilary heaved a weighty sigh. "I'm tired of hearing this same topic over and over, if you boys can't start acting your age for once and stop arguing then I'm going to go talk to those boys over there." She nodded towards the Demolition Boys, but was barely able to even turn in their direction before a loud whoop startled her.

"REI!"

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**_End Chapter Fourteen_…**

**… _To Be Continued_**

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Ahhh! (_Stretches_) That was fun to write! I hope you guys enjoyed it too!

**IMPORTANT NOTE!** I wanted to ask your opinion on something. With the increasing amount of reviews I've been getting (I STILL can't believe I've past 100! It's amazing!) I've been taking an increasing amount of space at the end of the chapters to respond to you all. Now, personally, I like adding the responses at the end of the chapters, it feels like I'm giving you guys proper thanks for reviewing. However, I was wondering if anyone would prefer if I stop including the responses. I realize that it misleads people about the size of the chapter and I apologize for this. If anyone feels strongly that I should continue/discontinue adding the responses please say so. Just to be clear though, I will still respond to signed reviews via e-mail or PM and anonymous reviews will always be responded to at the end of a chapter. Thanks for reading! **END IMPORTANT NOTE!**

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Now, for you reviewers! You guys are wonderful, by the way! I seriously thought I was gonna get some snarky comments about postponing the reunion, but you were all so nice about it! Thank you!

**FlamingIce94:** Hiya! I tried, I really did, to update as soon as possible, but I just got out of exams, so this was the best I could do…_(sheepish grin)_… Hey, it could be worse, I could have updated—gasp—late! I'm glad you liked the quote. When I chose it I was more going for a reference to Voltaire and Kai's relationship… but you pointed out a double meaning, now it sounds like I actually made it a lot smarter than it actually was… heh heh.

**Raykou-Kun:** Mwah ha ha! Yes, I am evil and I enjoy every moment of it! Hah ha—cough—Ha!... Er… Right… moving on… No reunion yet, but I hope you enjoyed the flashback!

**yo tadaiima:** _(Gasp!)_ I can't tell you when they're going to meet! You might stop reading this until I reach that point, and we can't have that! But I added a nice little flashback… did you like?

**Cailany:** Glad you thought it was OK that they didn't meet in the last chapter. Oh and one thing I can say is that yes, Kai remembers Japanese fluently, you will see as the story progresses that he has quite an excellent memory (thought the reasons for that remain unsaid as of yet!).

**Miako6:** Yeah, the last chapter wasn't one of my best, but it revealed an important point which you picked up on: no beyblading tournament. Can it be? Oh and I didn't want to say how Kai woke Tyson up in the morning yet (not when I can still have fun with it (_rubs hands together evilly_)!). But it may come again… at some point XP Sorry, I'm really slow with getting around to some of these things, there's just too much going on! I'm glad you thought Kai was in character, and I'm sorry if Kenny was a little too out of character. You see, I actually have something planned for the little guy, which explains why he's acting the way he is, but I still may have made his reactions too extreme. I might go back and edit it if I get the chance. Oh and yeah, sometimes I confuse the BBA and IBBA (or is it WBBA?) thing up. The BBA is supposed to be the Japanese delegation and the IBBA is the world class association… Sorry if I messed that up!

**wolf's lament:** Aww… is it dragging? Darn it! I knew that this would be long when I started writing it (I have WAY too many ideas to cram into such a little space) but, to be truthful, I wasn't actually concentrating on the reunion when I wrote the plot outline (can you believe it?). And in no way did I EVER think that everyone would be so excited about the reunion as they are! But I'm still glad you like it and, even though there was no reunion yet (oh my… I'm almost dreading it now; it's going to be so _LONG_… XD) I hope you liked this chappie!

**BloodRedViolet:** Hey! Sorry, can't tell you how many chapters are before the reunion, but I can say that's it's less than the number it took to get this far!... Ahhh (_Shrinks away from evil glares sent at author_) Yes, I realize that that's not exactly a _comforting _thought, but… hey didn't you like the flashback in this chapter? Oh and as for how Kai woke Tyson up in the morning, well, let's just say he might get the chance to do it again then you'll get to witness it… maybe XD

**lady KCassandra:** Er… Please don't combust, please? I don't want to loose one of my most faithful readers! The reunion will come, in just a few more chapters, but until then, I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

**phoenix-falling: **Yay! I'm glad you don't mind the pace, oh and I'm also glad you like my Kai… He's so much fun to write! The funny thing is that I have three older sisters, so the only daily male contact I have is my Dad (not too many guy friends even!). So at first I was worried that I'd make Kai too… I dunno, sensitive? Emotional? Thoughtful (XD Ha, that's a bit mean—guys are thoughtful… (snort) XP)? Anyway, so I'm glad you like him, and I like the idea of setting Tyson on fire (_hmmm_)… And I can't wait for the reunion either (I have SO MUCH planned for it! It's gonna be long; I'm almost dreading writing it, how's that for an oxymoron? Sometimes though I wish I could dictate my chapters and they would write themselves… Sigh XD). There will be a Voltaire/Kai confrontation, but it might not be in the way you think! Oh and I feel your pain about Wikipedia, that same thing happens with me and my Dictionary, I keep looking up words that were used to describe other words which I looked up, which in turn, were used to describe _other_ words… yeah… I know exactly what you mean!

**Miss Fangirl:** Hey, you changed your penname! Ha ha, it's cute though, I like it! I know I'm taking forever to get to the reunion, but I _promise_ it will come soon! I hope you liked the chapter though, lots of insight on Kai and Rei!

**Canyx:** XD Ha ha, sorry, I didn't mean to make it so suspenseful. When I wrote out the plotline for this part I didn't expect everyone to be looking forward to the reunion as much as they are… But I promise that it WILL come. It might not be exactly what you're expecting, but that's the fun part, isn't it? I'm really glad you like the story so far, this flashback was especially fun to write, so I hope you liked it too!

**kavbj:** Aw, you're too nice! But Kai practically writes himself, he won't let himself come across as weak or emotional (and he IS so hot! XD). I'm trying to make him complex and deep, which is harder than I thought it would be (as you can tell just from how long this fic is getting!) but I also want to describe the past and what made him the way he is. All of this, along with adding side stories for all the OTHER characters is making it really hard to keep track of all the things I've started (there're the Huo's, Kai's Grandfather, Rei's story, Max's parents, Kai's tattoo, Tyson's sleeping habits, the tournament, the meeting… and ON… XD… I mean I THINK I know where I'm going with it all… but there're so many things! XP). Ha ha, your pick up lines/insults were funny and oddly disturbing XD. You know, Kai would look really good paying the bills (_stares dreamily into space for a bit_) Hmmmm… I'm seriously starting to think about that one!

Oh and you're finished school for Christmas? That's great! I just finished my last exam two days ago (my sleeping habits are still skewed! Last night I didn't sleep until 6! And I can't wake up… at ALL in the morning!) and I am SO HAPPY to be off until January 7 (you're off until Jan 29?! How's that possible!!). Anyway, basically what Kenny was saying in the last chapter was that the red eyes Rei saw in the alley most likely belonged to an albino rat rather than Kai (they have the creepiest red eyes! I did a science fair a couple of years ago where I had a bunch of rats as my test subjects… ha ha, it was an _interesting_ experience, to say the least XP). Kenny just said it with a lot more colorful language XD. Anyway, I hope you liked the chappie!

**bladz-liska:** You weren't late, I love getting reviews, no matter when! The last chapter was a filler, I admit, and if there were any similarities to other fics it was completely unintentional, but I've read so many Beyblade fics out there it's possible that some of them have rubbed off on me XD. Oh and the reunion is coming soon, it's already started so it won't be long now! Oh and thanks for telling me about Russians! I don't actually know anyone from Russia so my assessment on their personalities was all through research, but I'm glad that I got it right! Oh and about Kai's motivations, it gets a bit complicated there (I'm glad that you picked up on it though!). Kai wants, first, to be able to advance and move forward in his life. He needs purpose in his life, otherwise it doesn't feel like he's _living_, just _existing_. He feels like he's using the Huo's and that he'd hiding from life by staying with them. The only way he can conquer this is by returning to his old life. Meanwhile, Kai is having conflicting thoughts about his Grandfather. See, Kai did love Voltaire, once, but he feels like Voltaire betrayed him and used him. Therefore Kai is angry and vengeful (but even still, he's trying to suppress these feelings, because he sees emotions as weak). So… even though Kai may _want_ to get revenge, he won't act on this because it seems base or pathetic. XD Ha ha, I know, it's a bit complicated, and really, _really _hard to portray, but I hope my explanation cleared some things up (Kai won't be going on any murderous rampages any time soon, in case you're wondering XD). Anyway, I'm glad you like my style of writing, and I'm amazed that you're taking the time to actually read all of this, thanks! I'll try my best to keep the standard of my writing up (sometimes I get lazy, which is bad XP).

**d1bontemp:** You're right; there is a significance to the cut on Kai's arm. It's not going to get a dire infection—that will land Kai in the hospital for half of the fic—or cause a huge, massive upheaval but it _will_ come up again! I know it's taking a long time to get to the reunion, but I'm glad you're enjoying it anyway, and I hope you liked the chapter!

**ladyofwest:** YAY! A new reviewer! I am so glad you like my portrayal of Kai! I spent a lot of time figuring out how I wanted him to act, his motivations and issues… And most of all his pride! You are so right about fanfictions that make Kai cry, whiny, and childish… I can't stand that! And if I ever start doing anything like that, then feel free to pick up the proverbial spork and poke me! I know Kai was a little out of character in this chapter, but I couldn't resist! I love Kai/anyone interaction and unfortunately that often involves more than a 'Hn' or 'Turns and strides out of the room, scarf tails flying' XD. Oh and I hope you liked the chapter, lotsa Rei in it! Tala too will play a role, but his character is a bit harder for me to pin down (he didn't have much of one in the first season, and he acted completely different in the third!). But I'll figure it out :) Kai is my absolute favorite character in Beyblade, Rei and Tala are up there but I agree with you: Kai is just too cool XD. For the Bladebreaker chapters, it was a bit hard to find the right balance between 'Kai-angst' and 'realistic' so I'm glad you like it! By the way, I never would have guessed that your first language isn't English! You write it so well! And I can't believe you had the patience to read through my story, when it isn't even in your first language! Thanks!

**DancerInTheDark101:** Hello again! The flashback of the Abbey was definitely one of the most fun points I've had yet while writing this story, the flashback in this chapter is up there though (hope you liked it!). The reunion is coming, don't worry, and it's going to be LONG (to include almost _everyone's_ reaction XP). The Demolition Boys will grow to be significant. (Tala mostly, once I figure out his character XD, it's taking me awhile because he was so different between the first and third seasons…and I also need a way to explain why he acted like he did during the first season, especially if he and Kai had history together (all this thinking and planning right after my exams is giving me a headache XP!).) The story mostly centers around Kai and the Bladebreakers but the Demolition Boys will come into play… I can't really tell you how or when though because it all depends on how the story takes itself (you know what I mean, right? That even when you have a story planned out sometimes it just up and takes a life of its own, running rampant over all your careful planning? Yeah… this has happened WAY too often to me XP). Anyway, I don't mind if your reviews were short, they came at just the right moment to cheer me up (after one of my hardest exams) so thanks for that!

**Adio!**


	17. The Leader's Od

**Chapter 15**

**Author Note:** I am so, incredibly SORRY this took so long to get out! And especially after telling all of you that I'd get it out soon! You guys _have_ to forgive me! Please! I could go in this super-long speech about how time consuming real life was, or how I hit a massive block smack in the middle of the chapter, but I doubt any of you really want to hear my bellyaching… The only consolation I can offer all of you is that I got this chapter out practically as soon as I'd written it (with barely even one proof-reading). So, there might be some errors, but I hope you all still like it, and thanks for your patience!

**Disclaimer: **Beyblade is not mine, if it were, I would have given Kai a scarf and made him look less girly in season two, I mean, did you guys see that shirt he was wearing? Beyblade is Takao Aoki's… gee I wonder where Takao (Tyson) got his name form?!

**Note on storyline romance: **Oh and one last thing! For anyone who's still wondering: there will be NO YAOI in this fiction. And to add to that I probably will not be outright pairing anyone with anyone else… male or female. Now this is not to be taken as meaning there will be no romance, I will try to include short scenes suggesting or hinting at things… but it will never, ever become a main part of this fiction. Thanks.

Enjoy!

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

_After the world championships in Russia, Kai just wanted to vanish. Then one day, inevitably, Kai is drawn back and ensnared in an intricate web of magic and legends; wrought by forsaken history and controlled by none other than Voltaire. _

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"_Let us make one point, that we meet each other with a smile, when it is difficult to smile. Smile at each other, make time for each other in your family."_

—Mother Teresa (1910-1997)

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**Chapter 15:** **_The Leader's Od_**

As one, the Bladebreakers and Hilary all turned just in time to see something fast and rather pink launch itself at Rei.

"Mariah!" Rei laughed as he caught her in a hug, spinning her in a short half circle. They exchanged a few words in Mandarin while on the side, Hilary's eyebrow rose as she eyed the girl deprecatingly. '_This is Mariah?' _With the pink hair, pink outfit, pink shoes and obviously fake pink cat ear headband she was definitely not what Hilary had been expecting as a world class athlete... But then again, she had to remember that they were talking about a world class sport involving _spinning tops _here... honestly, what the world was coming to...

Hilary watched as three more boys walked up to join the girl, all of whom were sporting gleaming white fangs.

Rei managed to disentangle himself from Mariah, while Tyson and Max sniggered. At least, they sniggered until Rei smacked them both none too gently on the backs of their heads. At that point everyone, even Dizzy who was sitting open on a small, wooden coffee table, laughed.

"Lee, Gary, Kevin!" Rei greeted his old team enthusiastically. "It's great to see you all again!"

Max looked at his friend oddly, '_Why is Rei acting so excited?'_ He wondered. '_He's acting like he hasn't seen his old team in forever, but didn't he just spent the past year with them?'_ Max wasn't able to comment on Rei's odd behavior since Lee's voice cut through his thoughts.

"You too, friend," Lee grinned.

"But getting here was murder!" Mariah jumped in, her English much more fluent than her brother's. "You wouldn't _believe_ the crowds out there."

Lee turned to Tyson, Max and Kenny. "Hello to you," He stated and shook hands with Tyson and Max while Kenny merely nodded. Finally, Lee turned to Hilary. "_Konnichi_ _wa._" _Hello,_ he said in heavily accented Japanese before switching back to English and giving a short, polite bow. "My name is Lee Wong, Captain of White Tigers."

Hilary looked at him is surprise. "You speak Japanese?"

Lee gave a short bark of laughter. "Ah, no, that is all my Japanese." He said, continuing in English, the designated language used between international teams. "I just wish to make good impression. You are friend of Rei?"

Hilary smiled. "I'm Hilary; actually I've only just met Rei but I'm Tyson's—_Mph!_—" Tyson had clamped a hand down on her mouth making violent shushing motions with his other hand as Hilary glared at him murderously. Lee looked between the two curiously.

"Tyson's what?" Kevin, the youngest member of the White Tigers chose this moment to enter into the conversation. He bounded over to Tyson, hopping up and down to meet the older boy's eyes. "Is she your _girlfriend?_" He then proceeded to bounce around the two singing. "Ooo, Tyson's got a girl-friend! Ty-son's got a girrl-friend! Tyson's got—HEY!" Tyson swung at the annoying green-haired boy but missed. This action did however allow Hilary the opportunity to elbow Tyson in the side, causing the boy to let her go with a yelp.

"I am _not_ his girlfriend." She huffed indignantly, tossing her head and placing her hands on hips "I wouldn't be his girlfriend if he was the last guy on Earth! I'm his tutor in Math." Chuckles circled the group as Tyson reddened, scuffing his feet on the wooden floor.

"Heh heh, poor wickle world Champ, can't even pass an itty bitty Math classy?" Kevin intoned, quickly coming up with another song.

While everyone else was otherwise occupied, Lee quietly pulled Rei aside. Rei followed, feeling just a bit wary at the serious look on his old friends face. They had walked past the end of the buffet table, nearly crossing the huge room before Lee stopped.

"_**I**_**I **_Look, Rei __**I**_**I**" Lee spoke seriously, and immediately received a response as Rei's head swiveled around to stare narrowly at him; Lee had spoken in Chinese, yes, but he had used the dialect of their village, which was a secret language used only by their tribe. It was never to be uttered in public, the only exception being during circumstances of the utmost urgency which required complete privacy. "_**I**_**I **_I need to speak with you later, you understand? __**I**_**I**"

Rei gave him a puzzled look. "_**I**_**I **_About what? __**I**_**I**" No, he had never forgotten the language of his ancestors, no matter the time he had spent away from his clan. A sudden realization came to him and Rei gave Lee a small smile of reassurement. "_**I**_**I **_Don't worry, I'm not going to hold any grudges about happened last year __**I**_**I**" Exactly _what_ had happened last year remained unsaid.

Lee just looked away for a moment before pulling his gaze back to stare at Rei steadily. "_**I**_**I** _It isn't about that __**I**_**I**" He spoke slowly and Rei felt that strange knot of unease in his stomach grow. "_**I**_**I** _It' is ab—... It's about your parents, Rei __**I**_**I**" He paused, and when Rei didn't speak he added in a hushed voice "_**I**_**I** _Your _real _parents, Rei __**I**_**I**"

Rei's world seemed to freeze; and somewhere distant he could feel his eyes get wide. "_**I**_**I** _My...parents...? __**I**_**I**" his voice wavered. Lee nodded. Rei's gaze snapped back to his friend. "_**I**_**I** _That's not possible. You know that. __**I**_**I**"

Lee shifted his weight. "_**I**_**I** _Well... Look, I can't talk about it now, you have to come by later... __**I**_**I**"

When it began to look like Lee wasn't going to answer Rei reached out and grasped his friend's forearm tightly. "_**I**_**I** _No, you can't just mention my parents then expect me to wait patiently to find out what you're talking about! This isn't a joke, Lee, tell me, is Grand Master behind this, or is it— __**I**_**I**"

"_**I**_**I** _Listen, __**I**_**I**" Lee pulled out of Rei's grasp and set his face into a stubborn frown. "_**I**_**I** _I can't talk about this here. The Grand Master has come. He will speak to you personally. Both he and Mao have come… __**I**_**I**"

Rei's expression grew stony. "_**I**_**I** _Mao __**I**_**I**" He curled the name around his teeth. "_**I**_**I** _You don't mean— __**I**_**I**"

"_**I**_**I** _Yeah, he's trained us these past few years. __**I**_**I**" Lee paused, then made a point of searching the room with his eyes. "Hey Rei, I have not seen that Hiwatari anywhere, he is where? Off in dark alley?"

It didn't go unnoticed by Rei that Lee had changed the language back to English, that he was obviously desperate for a change in topic. Rei opened his mouth to call Lee on it, but changed his mind midway and let himself fall back into a sulk, crossing his arms and slouching against the whitewashed wall. "Wish I knew." He groused.

Lee glanced over. "What do you mean?"

"He's been missing for a year now."

"What?" Lee now faced Rei fully. "You are not being serious, really?"

"Yeah..."

Lee shook his head. "That is not good, but I cannot say I feel much bad for him, perhaps now you have better Captain."

Rei's temper had already been fraying, and this comment finally crossed the line. He shoved off the wall, clenching his fists at his sides and glared at Lee, conscious of his pupils constricting. "He _is_ our Captain, how would you feel if _you _went missing and Mariah and them just said: 'Oh, well, that's too bad, at least he don't have to deal with his mule-headedness, his _obsessiveness_ anymore; let's go get a _new_ Captain!' "

Lee scowled. "Rei…_zuo jing guan tian._" Rei raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the odd Mandarin phrase. Literally translated, it meant: _It's like looking at the sky from the bottom of the well._ But the general gist was supposed to convey that he wasn't getting the whole picture. "It is not the same, Hiwatari—"

"What, Lee, he what?" Rei challenged, raising his chin aggressively, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu as he was once again the only one defending Kai. He straightened his back, "He betrayed us? Yes, but don't forget that you wanted me to do the same. Didn't have a problem with it then, did you? He what then? Didn't train us properly? Well, we never lost a tournament did we? I'd say we did pretty well actually, being that we became world champions and such."

"Yes!" Lee's own temper flared in response. "It is because you and Tyson won your battles! Tyson is world champion. Kai is... was..." he fumbled for a word then ended up spitting out a word in Mandarin that roughly translated to _useless benchwarmer_.

Rei nearly snapped back, but bit his tongue and leaned back, rubbing one eyebrow with his knuckles in consternation. "Look, Lee, I don't want to talk about this now, so if you don't have anything else to tell me then..."

Lee backed off. "Fine." He said shortly, never being one to apologize. Consequentially, a short silence fell as the two boys avoided eye contact.

"MOM!"

Both Rei and Lee turned to watch Max run up to a blond woman and hug her tightly. Rei's face was unresponsive, but Lee looked surprised. "She is Judy." He said hesitantly.

"Yeah." Rei nodded.

"The manager of the All-Starz is…Mother of Max?"

"Yup, go figure, huh?" Rei answered, not feeling up to an explanation.

But Lee pressed on. "Why is not Max on American team?"

Rei sighed. "Long story. Max lives with his father—" Rei pointed out the dark haired Japanese man making his way over to his ex-wife and child. "They live in Japan."

Lee nodded. "I see." But he didn't really sound like he did; having lived a sheltered life in his traditionalistic village, Lee wasn't very familiar with many concepts common in the modern world. Among these was the concept of divorce. He sounded like he wanted Rei to explain.

Rei remembered Lee's disinclination to tell him about his parents, then his comments about Kai, and found he didn't much care.

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Hilary was bored.

There was no one to talk to: Max was busy with his parents, Rei was talking to his team and the new group that had just come in… the _All Starz,_ looked too…jock-ish for her tastes.

Hilary would have been happy if she could have had a nice, intellectual conversation with Mariah but when Hilary had approached the pink-haired girl, Mariah had immediately sent her a long dark glare; then promptly dragged her off to a corner. The second the two girls were alone, Mariah had grilled her relentlessly about how and why she knew Rei, how long she'd known him, where she'd met him and what _exactly _she thought she thought she was doing hanging around him. Hilary would've had to have been blind to have missed the obvious jealousy the girl was radiating.

After telling her snappily that she knew practically nothing about Rei, had absolutely _no_ feelings for him, and had only known him for a _grand total of one day_—in hindsight, Hilary probably shouldn't have been so harsh—such a heavy awkward silence had fell that both girls had to separate in order to get over their embarrassment.

So, at least for now, Mariah was out of the question. Next there was Tyson…

Hilary only had to glance over at the dark-haired boy—who was talking animatedly to one of the White Tigers…Gary…and gesticulating wildly in the air as they compared the differences in Japanese and Chinese ramen—before she turned away with a shudder. Ok, she preferred to talk with someone whose every second word was _not_ food related… And whose brain mass was not comparable to the size of a pea, she added as an afterthought.

Of course, then there was Kenny… But while Tyson's brain was a pea, Kenny's was like a five course meal… there was no end to it!

Hilary abruptly realized that she had started thinking in terms of food and scowled. If Tyson was starting to rub off on her…She growled.

Next time she talked to Tyson she would have to make sure to hit him with something hard.

Anyway… She shook her head. She had systematically eliminated every person in the room with the exception of…

Her eyes trailed over to the silent group of Russians in the corner. The two men, '_Boris and Voltaire' _her mind supplied the names, looked snobby and aloof. Plus, her group had warned her against approaching them. But she wasn't interested in talking to them anyway. No, instead her gaze fell to the young boys in the Russian team… the Demolition Boys.

They were very quiet, she mused. And they didn't appear to even want to socialize with the other teams, but that could just be because they were shy. She took in their appearances:

They were all very pale, but Hilary attributed that to living in a cold country. Honestly, if it snowed half as much in Japan as it did in Russia she herself would be as white as chalk. Already, it had been snowing when they were arriving. Hilary had stared in awe at the massive flakes—they looked more like cotton balls than the dainty ice crystals she was used to—that had been dropping from the sky. At first she'd thought they were pretty… then she'd stepped out of the bus and realized how _freezing cold_ it was. That had definitely dampened the situation… not to mention her jacket, which had been soaked through when the snow had eventually melted on the fabric. Those cotton balls held a lot more water than the regular snowflakes.

Pulling herself back to the present, Hilary returned her attention to the boys she was examining.

First there was a short, stubby boy, with a shock of dark, eggplant hair and a nose that looked more like a squash than—

'_Stop with the food references!' _Her mind shouted at her. '_His nose is not a squash… it's aquiline, yes, it's like a hawk…'_ She refused to admit to her self though that there was not a single dent in the boy's nose and instead of sloping downward like a hawk's it stuck straight out…

"_Next!_" She muttered harshly, and her eyes went to the tall, burly boy standing behind the couch.

Her first impression of this giant was 'Terminator'. God, he was huge! Practically every muscle she had ever heard of, and then some, bulged and rolled powerfully under his skin. He wore a sleeveless, army-style vest with a tight, black, also sleeveless shirt underneath. The top left nothing to the imagination and Hilary was amazed that any human could be so muscled. The guy had his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his face schooled into a perpetual frown, as though daring anyone to even _try_ to talk to him. He had very short blond hair that spiked up over a dark green bandanna. Baggy camouflage pants strewn with countless pockets completed his look. Hilary wondered why someone like _this_ would ever be interested in playing with spinning tops… maybe he liked to step on them?

Also standing, was the third boy. But while the big, muscle guy was just neutrally standing behind the couch, this guy was close to the arm of the chair, standing almost protectively to the right of the fourth boy, who was seated on the couch. This third teen had his hands thrust deeply into the pockets of his pants and stood, leaning slightly backward, with his head titled down. Out of all the teens, he seemed the most unapproachable to Hilary. It wasn't because he was the biggest—that title went to giant next to him—and it wasn't because he looked the strangest, in spite of his long sideburns—_that_ was definitely the freaky-nosed boy's area—it was something else.

Hilary looked closer. The boy had strangely colored hair. At first glance it looked white, but then, upon closer inspection she saw it was more lilac, but that wasn't it. It wasn't his clothes either: the bushel of white fur around his jacket collar was odd, yes, considering he was wearing short-sleeves, but not scary.

It was his face, Hilary realized. His head was tilted down, but his eyes, orbs of pure silver, stared straight ahead, unflinchingly… unwaveringly. Hilary watched just his eyes for a full minute and he didn't blink once… It was unnerving. And the rest of his face held not a hint of emotion. Hilary hadn't known true apathy until she'd seen this boy's face.

Deciding she probably shouldn't be thinking too much about this, Hilary turned her eyes to the next, and final, boy: the one seated to the side of the lilac haired boy.

For a moment, she just stared.

Seated back comfortably with lofty air of someone who owned the place, was one of the most gorgeous boys she'd ever seen.

Where Rei was cute in a mischievous, witty way, with his lopsided grin and keen eyes, this teen was handsome with self-assured confidence and an air of skillfully contained power. There was no question; he was clearly the leader of the group.

His skin was as white as snow and smoother than porcelain, and his features were fine, with high cheekbones and a small, sharp nose. Crimson hair spiked into the air and fell around his eyes contrasting sharply with his skin and if his eyes weren't closed Hilary was sure that he would have been even more stunning.

His figure was slim, but in no way feminine. Under the white shirt he was obviously muscular. But instead of having large, bulging muscles like his teammate, this boy was lean and wiry, like a predator: a tiger, or wolf. His shirt had a large collar with blue straps that covered his chin, as his head was titled slightly down. His arms were crossed as were his legs and Hilary could see long, dark orange stripes on the white shirt, moving down over his arms, before ending in a wide cuff, accenting the outfit. Just visible under the cuffs was a pair of stiff white gloves. Many blue belts hung at the teen's hips, and strapped around his arms and legs. Their purpose was unknown to Hilary but served only to compliment his amazing figure more.

She swallowed.

Suddenly, walking up to and chatting with these boys seemed like this mountainous feat she'd never be able to accomplish. Besides, they were Russian, who's to say they even _know_ English? Or what if they think she's weird for going up and talking to them? _Was _it weird? In Japan it was normal to walk up to classmates you didn't know and say hi… Was in different in Russia?

'_No!'_ Hilary shook her head. '_I won't let myself talk myself out of it! I'm going to talk to them… Now!... Go!'_ Taking a deep breath, then puffing it out determinedly, she strode forward purposefully.

Standing directly in front of the red-haired boy, she put on the largest smile she could—hoping it didn't look too freaky—and, without letting herself think too much, jumped right into her introduction.

"Hello!" She said enthusiastically. "I'm Hilary Tatibana. I'm part of the Japanese delegation and since my _group_ is otherwise _engaged_." Here she shot a narrow glare at Tyson. "I thought I would come over here and introduce myself, since we've never met before. Ehe, heh…" Quite suddenly Hilary realized that none of the boys were even paying her the slightest amount of attention. She cleared her throat nervously and waited.

Silence reigned.

Hilary fidgeted, beginning to grow red in the face.

After another minute or so of silence, she couldn't take it anymore.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!" She cried. "The least you can do is _look_ at me! Do you know how _rude_ it is to—"

"Would you _please_ be quiet?" A low, smooth tone slid like butter over hers effortlessly and her words stumbled into silence. She stared. It had been the red haired boy who'd spoken. "You're annoying."

Hilary bristled. "Ex-_cuse_ me?"

"She just doesn't get it, does she, Bryan?" The red head's eyes slid open and Hilary got a glimpse of brilliant aquamarine eyes. He looked to the lilac haired boy, Bryan, at his side.

Bryan snorted.

Tala leaned forward, unfolding his arms and placing his white gloved hands on his folded knee. Long, dexterous fingers wrapped around the kneecap. Then, he brought his gaze to hers, brilliant eyes fixing on her. For a moment, she was struck speechless by the intensity of his stare.

"You. Are. Annoying." His smooth voice said very slowly, as though to a three year old.

Hilary blinked, not understanding at first, but then she forcibly clawed her way back to reality.

"Well!" She huffed. "You're a stuck up snob, so I guess we're even."

Tala leaned back, folding his arms again. Amusement flickered in his eyes. "Hardly." He snorted.

"Tala, stop playing around." The muscled guy suddenly interrupted gruffly.

Tala; Hilary now had a name to fit with the red haired boy. She narrowed her eyes at _Tala_. He didn't even look at her, just sent a smirk at the muscled guy.

"Spencer, you never mince words do you?" Tala drawled. "Very well." Then his eyes went back to Hilary. "Go away." He dismissed her.

Hilary nearly saw red. "Why you—!"

"Aww… little girly wants to play with the big boys, does she? Watch out, little girly, you might get stung." Chanted the eggplant-haired boy in a high, snarky voice.

"Ian, don't scare the poor, silly child." Tala admonished softly.

"I'll have you know!" Hilary was very, very angry at this point. Brashly, she stepped forward. "I am here to TUTOR your so called World Champion! So if your stupid, childish toys can't even produce an _ounce_ of smartness in the entire _world_ then you are _hardly_ one to call _me_ silly!" Then, without thinking, she reached out to jab her index finger hard into Tala's chest.

In a split second, a hand flashed out and caught her wrist. She gasped when it tightened painfully.

"Don't." Was all Tala said and Hilary's eyes widened as the Russian boy's voice drastically changed from playful to serious, his face devoid of all emotion. Suddenly, all Hilary's confidence fled and she was left feeling vulnerable and scared. Suddenly, she preferred Tyson to these strange, enigmatic boys.

"Is there a _problem_ here?" Hilary started when a dark, baritone voice unexpectedly sounded from behind her. Tala dropped her wrist like a live coal.

Immediately all four boys before her stiffened. Swiftly, Tala smoothly swept to his feet, Ian bouncing awkwardly behind him.

"_Dobrayeh_ _otra, Master Boris!_" All four boys intoned as one and Hilary started, backing away a few paces yet strangely unable to turn and walk away, like some invisible force was holding her there. '_What did they just say? Was that Russian?'_ She was thrown off by their suddenly formal, respectful tones, Tala's in particular…a huge change from the sarcastic, biting one from before. Just then the name they'd said struck her. '_Master… Boris?… Uh-oh…'_ With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she turned slowly and looked up.

The man before her was at least three heads taller than her. He was wearing a long, dark, brownish-maroon Abbey-style cloak which draped over his broad shoulders before falling straight to the ground. It parted in the middle and from what Hilary could see, he was wearing straight black pants and a high collared black shirt under the cloak—not unlike a priest. His hair was purple with highlights of silver running through it and stuck upward from his head. But it was his face that scared Hilary. Deep lines of disapproval lined the mouth, which was pulled into a thin line over a protruding rectangular chin. Thick eyebrows and sunken, pointed cheekbones gave his pale features a sinister look. His deep-set eyes were so light they were nearly colorless: small and fierce, they were evil-looking things and Hilary knew immediately that this was not a man who you could cross and expect to come out unscathed.

Boris. This was the man Tyson and the others had said tried to take over the world…_the world_…last year… However ridiculous that had sounded when they'd said it Hilary now found herself completely believing the tales as she stared up at this sinister looking man. She took another step back.

"There is no problem, Master Boris." Tala said in a monotone, gazing steadily at the ground. Hilary thought this was odd, but then she saw how all four boys were looking at the ground. She frowned, then looked back up at Boris. But for all the attention he gave her she could have been a bug on the ground.

"That is good." Boris said, his baritone voice so deep and it went straight to Hilary's heart. She shivered; there was something _wrong_ with his voice… It wasn't an ugly voice, but it had an underlying sting of danger, sneaky and twisted like a snake. "You weren't being bothered then, by… _this_?" Thick hands, covered by black gloves, slid out from under the cloak and gestured vaguely in Hilary's direction. The way he said '_this'_ angered Hilary; he was acting like she was some insignificant… insignificant _thing_!

"No, sir." Tala answered in that same, unaffected monotone and Hilary was about to make some sharp, insulted comment when a hand descended on her shoulder.

"Hilary, there you are, I've been looking for you!" There at her elbow, with obviously forced enthusiasm was Rei Kon. Hilary paused, incredulous at his sudden appearance, her mouth still slightly open in preparation to speak. She turned to stare at him; and though he did not look at her, his golden eyes, narrow and intense, told her she was in very big trouble.

In front of the pair, Boris' entire posture shifted and his expression cleared into what could have been considered pleasure. Tala stiffened. Bryan's lip curled. Rei didn't seem to notice.

A cold shiver ran over Hilary's spine.

"Mr. Kon! What a honor it is to see you again! I trust you've been upholding the high beyblading standard you've become famous for." Boris' tone suggested some hidden meaning Hilary didn't quite grasp.

"I've been doing my best." Came Rei's carefully neutral response. Hilary noticed that Rei didn't bother to address Boris and for a second she wondered why. Usually people avoided saying names for two reasons: one, they didn't remember the other's name… or two: they didn't want to use the formalities associated with the name. Hilary had only too clearly heard how Tala had called Boris 'Master', it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what Rei was thinking. Hilary realized Rei was talking and tuned back in.

"It is _unfortunate_, but I cannot stay and talk for long." Rei's tone suggested he felt quite different than his words suggested. "Mr. Dickenson wishes to speak with both Hilary and I before he attends to his obligations in the board room." The lie was so easy and smooth, Hilary would have been completely fooled if not for the fact that Mr. Dickenson had next to no interest in her. But it wasn't the lie that astounded her, but Rei himself. He had seemed so casual, and sarcastic before… Now he was stiff and formal as he stared Boris straight on. What had happened?

"That is unfortunate." Boris mimicked Rei's words in his low drawl. Hilary had the feeling he was mocking Rei somehow. "I was hoping to at least exchange some words on your training techniques… But indulge my one concern, if you would." It was a statement, not a question.

"Of course." Rei's eyes never left the man's face.

"Tell me, how has your team been this past year?" An almost unnoticeable smirk passed Boris' face.

Hilary felt the hand on her shoulder tighten spasmodically before abruptly letting go. She turned to look at Rei in confusion, but his expression was blank. "I imagine they were well."

"Is that all?" Boris looked surprised. "Surely they were more than 'well'. You are still a part of the Bladebreakers, correct?"

"Yes." Rei's voice was tight.

"Certainly, of any team here, the World Champions have had the most right to be more than 'well'."

"I would not know the details." Rei sounded like he was speaking through clenched teeth. Hilary had no idea why he was getting so worked up. "I was in China, visiting my home village for the better part of the year."

"Really?" Now Boris' eyebrows lifted, for some reason he looked smug, like he had just caught Rei in some lie.

"_Yes_." Rei nearly hissed. He was close to looking openly hostile and Hilary decided she should step in before he did something he'd regret.

"C'mon Rei." She said quietly. "Mr. Dickenson's waiting for us."

Rei visibly took a breath, closed his eyes. When he reopened them, they were again clear of any emotion. "Right, well, as I said, Mr. Dickenson is expecting us, so if we could take our leave…"

"Yes, yes." Boris waved his thick hand. "Naturally. Oh and by the Russian beyblading association please pass along the best tidings for the coming new year to your _manager _and team, Mr. Kon." Boris sneered, just slightly, on the word '_manager_' and Hilary remembered, like a sudden epiphany, how Mr. Dickenson had told Kai was the Bladebreakers' manager. Suddenly all the subtle hints and subliminal taunting made sense, along with Rei's extreme responses… This man was mocking them for not knowing where Kai was, and how Kai was doing!

In spite of having never met Kai, and therefore having no real feelings on him otherwise, Hilary found herself irrationally upset at Boris' behavior. How could he be so… so callous!

"To you as well." Rei bit back and Hilary once again noticed how the Chinese boy omitted Boris' name. "Come on, Hilary" and Rei almost literally dragged her away. Her eyes stayed fixed on Boris' smug face as he stared steadily at Rei's retreating back.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Rei spun her around and her view was suddenly obscured by his fascinating, but undeniably furious eyes.

"Hilary! What the… What on Earth were you thinking!? Didn't Tyson and Max warn you about them? Or are you so stubborn that you'll rush off and do the opposite of anything Tyson says even if it's completely idiotic?" He whispered harshly and she flinched back involuntarily. Rei realized his own words then, and clenched his jaw, drawing back. He took a breath, let it out in an angry puff and looked away. He took another breath.

"I can't _believe_ he had the nerve. How _dare _he just stand there so smug… Saying what he did… He's _mocking _us, the foul snake." He whispered under his breath. Hilary had to strain to catch his words and even then she wasn't sure if that was what he said. Rei took another breath this time he appeared to relax, Hilary didn't hear him exhale.

"Look," Hilary said, feeling she had to regain some of the respect she appeared to have lost in Rei's eyes. "Max told me just to say away from Boris, and I did! I'm not stupid, I just wanted to talk to those boys they looked interesting…"

"So does a 200 pound mountain lion; are you just going to walk up and say hi to one of those too?" He spat scathingly. Hilary frowned.

"That's not nice." Hilary frowned.

"Well, who's ever accus—" Whatever Rei was going to say was broken off when he suddenly stopped.

"What?" Hilary asked roughly, trying to decide if she was going to let her curiosity overcome her annoyance.

"Nothing." Rei looked away, his voice suddenly somber. "Just, don't go rushing off into things without one of us again ok?"

"What are they going to do _here_, in front of everyone, anyway?" Hilary grumbled, not willing to admit she'd made a bad decision. "Break out into badly tuned Barney theme songs?"

It was a feeble joke, but the corners of Rei's mouth still quirked up into a shadow of his trademark crooked smirk. "Yes, _clearly_. How could we have possibly missed it before? That's their secret world domination plan, alright: take over the world with bad show tunes. It's a really good thing you came along Hilary; or we'd have all been done in by their evil singing ways. And who knows what would have happened then?"

Hilary grinned, so relieved that the tension had been broken she couldn't even think of an appropriate witty comeback. Secretly, she was impressed by Rei's seemingly effortless ability to generate smart comments.

"Well, don't we have to 'talk' to Mr. Dickenson?" She said eventually. Rei sighed, sobering, and she regretted breaking the happy mood.

"Yeah, I guess, better keep up appearances." Picking out Mr. Dickenson's round frame among the adults, Rei turned and walked away, Hilary following close behind.

* * *

'**;**.**;**'

* * *

"How very interesting, it appears as though that girl has acquired some keepers." Boris mused darkly, switching back to Russian, as he watched Rei and Hilary conversing halfway across the room. Suddenly he turned and fixed his cold stare on the Russian boys in front of them. The Demolition Boys straightened, straining their already perfect postures to near breaking point.

"Tala! Tell me, what do you know of that girl?" He shot out rapidly.

"She accompanies the Japanese team, sir." Tala responded immediately, his Russian even more fluid than his English.

"What else do you know of her? Is she important to any one member?"

"I do not know." When Tala said this he became immediately aware of Bryan's stare burning into his back. He ignored it.

"Did she give any of you cause to doubt the Japanese team's hospitality? Did she insult you in any way?" Boris' eyebrows drew together and his voice lowered.

"No, Master Boris she did not."

There was a pause. No one breathed.

"Tala…" Boris' voice was deceptively calm and Tala clenched his jaw. "Why were you touching her?"

Panic, brief and flighting, passed almost visibly through the air.

"Through my own negligence, sir. It was an error in judgment, I apologize." Now Tala heard a quiet exhale from Bryan and he knew the other boy was going to say something. Subtly, Tala shifted his left foot…right on top of Bryan's. The lilac haired boy inhaled quickly, but got the message and when Boris asked him pointedly if he had something to add, he said 'No'

Boris sniffed "Very well, you are excused" Tala was shocked at Boris' sudden benevolence. He had never been so lenient; perhaps it was because they were in a public place? "It is of no real relevance who she is," Boris continued. "As long as there are no interferences in our plans."

Tala listened closely here, was Boris finally going to reveal what secret plan he and Lord Voltaire had devised? Subtly he chanced a glance at his teammates. He frowned at the expressions he saw there: Bryan was aloof as usual, but Spencer seemed a little too tense and Ian kept sneaking glances at Tala… Boris was talking though and Tala turned his full attention to his mentor. "Our main goal is…" Then Boris trailed off as though aware of Tala's growing interest. "It is no matter; I have some things I must discuss with the Lord. Stay here, you are not to move unless he or I give you specific instructions, is that clear?" Boris' voice was suddenly hard, back in that tone every Abbey boy knew better than to disobey.

"Yes Master Boris." The four boys chorused lowly. And Boris left.

Immediately, Ian sank back into the couch. "Aw, man, I'm so glad that's over." The youngest Demolition Boy murmured. But the other three weren't listening.

"What the _hell_ was that, Tala?" Bryan fumed angrily at his captain.

Tala looked unfazed. He hummed questioningly.

"Don't give me that shit Tala." Bryan scowled. "You know exactly what I'm talking about! We've been through enough hell this past year without you adding to it."

"I didn't do anything, Bryan." Tala answered, his entire countenance calm, staring back at his teammate unfazed, even as Bryan literally towered over him.

"You _lied_."

"I did nothing."

"What if Boris finds out—"

"_I did nothing._" Tala didn't raise his voice, but something in his tone stopped Bryan's accusations short. Bryan leaned back, staring darkly at his Captain. There was a long, tense silence as the two boys had a silent battle of wills, Spencer and Ian shifted awkwardly on the side but made no move to interfere.

Finally Bryan backed down. Looking away, the lilac haired boy stepped back, taking his place by the couch once more. He was obviously displeased, but he said nothing. Tala sighed.

"Fine, now that we've got that cleared up, how about you guys tell me exactly _what_ you're hiding from me?"

If Tala hadn't been suspicious before he definitely was now. Spencer and Ian both tensed visibly while Bryan let out a slow exhale through his nose.

"What gives you the idea that we're hiding anything from you?" Spencer hedged around the question cautiously.

"Your expressions when Boris mentioned his plan. Ian was fidgeting." Tala said, smirking as said boy flushed as Spencer's frustrated gaze fell on the small boy. "Ian you should work harder at hiding your emotions." Tala adopted his lecturing tone and Ian huffed. Tala would have smiled, but they were in too public of a place. "Well are you going to tell me what you know or what?" Now Tala turned the full force of his authority on Spencer, knowing it was only from him that he would get any answers. Bryan's tongue was held tighter than his morals and Ian was too insecure. But Spencer's conscience had and always would be the poor guy's greated weakness.

"We probably don't know anymore than you." Was the tall boy's hesitant response.

"Humor me." Tala answered smoothly.

"Here?" Now Tala knew for sure that they were hiding something. Spencer was stalling.

"Where else? This is the first time in a year that we've been out from under their eyes. Now they can't hear us, and there aren't any cameras recording our every move, what better time is there?" Tala was smug; he knew his logic was irrefutable.

"Listen, Tala, I don't know if—"

"No, _you_ listen," Tala shot back, suddenly his patience was gone. "Obviously it's something _you_ think I'm better off not knowing, but I didn't ask you do be a judge for what I should or should not know. You have _no right _to keep _anything _from me! Especially after what we've been through! Especially if it's about—"

"Spencer, just tell him already." Bryan's low drawl cut into Tala's words and Tala wondered if it hadn't been a coincidence that Bryan had interrupted right when he was about to say _his_ name.

"I—" Spencer still hesitated.

"It's better… isn't it?" Ian quietly added, his voice unsure. "It's better if he hears now… from us… than later… when it happens, when he's gone…"

"Gone?" Tala felt a shock of uncharacteristic fear run through him. "What are you talking about?"

"Che!" Spencer huffed sharply. "Fine, I'll tell you what we've heard. But don't you dare go running off to do something rash, you got me Tala? You're incredibly short-sighted when it comes to that kid and I don't want you getting in anymore trouble because of him." Spencer sounded like an older brother.

"Fine, fine," Tala brushed him off. "Nothing stupid, now tell me!"

"Ok… so…" Spencer looked at Bryan and Ian hesitantly then seemed to gather himself. "You know how those two" and by that he obviously meant Boris and Voltaire. "Have been acting strangely for the past while…"

Tala nodded. He certainly had noticed the odd behavior, especially Boris'. For the past few months, the Director had begun having an excessively large number of 'meetings' with his superior: Lord Voltaire. Tala had tried many times, all unsuccessful, to find out what they talked about during those times… but the grapevine at the Abbey was unusually bare. And then, over the past few weeks Boris had begun to neglect their training. This was alarming in and of itself as Boris' already torturous training regimes usually intensified as tournaments neared.

The last time this had happened… was when _he_ had come.

"Well, Bryan, Ian and I were just doing some… uh… extra training one night." Spencer sounded a little unsure when he said this and Tala silently scoffed. Yeah right, his team never trained without him present, it just wasn't done. But Tala knew that, like Boris and Voltaire, he too had been acting strange for the past few weeks.

Ever since Tala had heard about the reunion he had become quiet and withdrawn, prone to sitting on the darkened rooftops of the Abbey for hours doing nothing… just thinking.

Bryan, Ian and Spencer had determined this an unhealthy way for him to spend his time and had lectured him over and over on how he should just stop caring, how it wasn't worth it, how it would eventually destroy him, how it _was_ destroying him.

But Tala refused to listen. He kept going back, night after night, sitting, thinking…

But however distracted Tala may have become, he wasn't blind enough to miss the concerned looks and whispered conversations his teammates had been having behind his back. He knew they were trying to figure out a way to get him to snap out of his memories… 'training' his left eye.

"Ya, ya, extra training, then what?" Tala gestured for Spencer to continue.

"Well… we saw the Director… and Lord Voltaire. They were in the next room talking, but they didn't see us." Spencer frowned, a faraway look in his eyes, as though recalling the memory.

"You didn't get caught did you?" Tala managed to sound both worried and threatening at the same time.

"Tala, you've got to have more faith in us that that." Ian threw his Captain a small, crooked smirk. "Though Spence here nearly tripped over the table while we were hiding behind the door."

"We didn't get caught." Spencer continued, ignoring Ian's commentary. "But we managed to listen in on what they were saying…"

"And?" Tala probed, his eyes impatient.

"They were talking about _him_."

Tala's face went blank. "What were they saying?"

"They were talking about some… experiment…"

"_Experiment_..." Tala rolled the word on his tongue, like a bitter lime it left a bad taste in his mouth. "Did they say what the experiment was about?"

"No…" Spencer shook his head. "Just that it had happened years ago. It seemed like there were more people involved though, because they said something about him 'coming closest' "

" 'Coming closest'?" Tala frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"We don't know." Ian piped up, "but _I_ guessed that it had to do with who came closest to succeeding… in the experiment." He said confidently, proud of his deduction skills.

"Then they spouted some nonsense about the alignment of the stars and how it would help." Spencer once again ignored Ian, who rolled his eyes on the side.

"Help with _what?_" Tala hissed.

"I don't know!" Spencer defended himself, looking peeved. "You're the only one who's ever understood any of that astronomy cra—"

"Ok, fine." Tala cut in. "but what else did they say about Na—him?"

"Lord Voltaire is very eager to be reacquainting with his Grandson." Bryan's smooth baritone swept through the group and Tala raised an eyebrow as this set off a lightbulb in his head.

"Wait, hasn't he been living with him, since the accident?" Tala asked, referring, of course to the explosion that had destroyed half the Abbey six years ago. Bryan shrugged. Tala looked to the others but got no more answer from them. He sighed. "Fine, more mysteries… well did you find anything else out?"

Spencer suddenly looked nervous. Shifting, he looked at Bryan who ignored him, then Ian who shrugged. Tala stared on, waiting. Finally Spencer sighed. "They talked a lot about power, and how getting him back would bring the ultimate power back to Biovolt…" Tala rolled his eyes. This was nothing new; Boris was obsessed with power, and _he_—Kai, Tala finally managed to think the name—had always been Boris' prodigy… Kai had had amazing potential, he could have become something, _they _could have become something. Tala shook the thought away. Now was not the time.

"So?" Tala said shortly.

"Well, Lord Voltaire was also gloating… he was saying how bringing him back would give him a chance to restore honor to his family's name, that they would finally reach true enlightenment."

"Enlightenment? What did he meant by that?"

"I don't know… But you know Lord Hiwatari has always been a bit…" Spencer trailed off, but Tala understood. The elder Hiwatari had a strange gift with words. He could weave complex patterns and songs of words and phrases, with deep meanings and incomprehensible weight, and they would all make perfect sense while he was talking. Such was the man's hidden charisma; that he could hold an entire audience captivated, hanging onto his every syllable, trusting it, believing it to be the irrefutable truth.

Tala had experienced this cloudy feeling once. When Hiwatari had worked his mesmerizing powers on him. Convinced him to work with Biovolt, for him, for the betterment of the world. Tala had been taken in completely by the promises, impressed by the man's confidence, that way he spoke, which left no room for argument. He had believed the man's every word without question… Until his dream had shattered brutally upon losing the world championships.

Yes, Voltaire Hiwatari had a gift with words.

Just as Boris had a gift with pain.

"Anyway, the thing is, they talking about him like he was some sort of prized possession. Like nothing else mattered except getting him back. That's what worried us. I mean, what's going to happen to us, to the Abbey once they get what they want?"

"But what _do _they want?" Tala murmured. "Power? World domination?...Revenge?" Tala suppressed a shudder at the last word.

"That's not the point!" Spencer cried, then immediately lowered his voice when Bryan shot him a sharp glance. "Don't you see? Once they get Hiwatari, they're going to just dump us. We're nothing but guinea pigs, a small pastime for them to amuse themselves until they get to the main attraction. What do you think is going the happen to us after they get their hands on him?"

"Us? Us?" Tala snorted. "We'll stay at the Abbey, where else? They're not going to dump us in some orphanage, not after they spent so much time training us."

"Tala…" Spencer sighed, sometimes his Captain acted so ignorant. "We're no use to them anymore… We failed, Tala. You know what happens to failures at the Abbey."

For some reason, Spencer's comment made Tala irrationally upset. "_If they were going to get rid of us, they would have done it already!_" the redhead whispered harshly. "They need us, we still have purpose." The words sounded desperate, even to Tala's ears and the teen scowled.

"We should just run away." Ian's quiet confession sent a shocked silence through the group. Then, like something had snapped within him, Tala lurched forward and grabbed Ian's arm in a painful grip.

"_Don't you dare say that! Not ever, do you hear me?_" He hissed at the younger boy, whose eyes widened in shock. "You listen here." He gave Ian a small shake. "You're young, you don't know what the world is like; so let me tell you. The world is cruel, the world is corrupt. The world is full of disgusting, bad people who are going to hurt you. To them you are like old hand-me-downs: useful when the closet is empty but the first to go in the trash when something better comes along. If you are alone out there, _no one_ will help you. _No one_ cares. You will rot in some dirty gutter in some dark alley as another nameless body dead on the streets. Is that what you want? Is it?" Tala was ruthless, waiting tirelessly until Ian responded with a jerky shake of his head. Tala dropped the purple haired boy's arm.

"The world doesn't care about you and it doesn't care about me. All we have in the world is each other and all we can hope for is to make ourselves become more. At the Abbey we're getting something we'll never receive from anyone else: an education. With an education you can do _anything_." Tala's eyes were focused, but unseeing as he stared at everything and nothing, all at once. "You can become _anything you want_." Then he turned back to the present. "Isn't that worth a little pain? A little hunger? The streets won't save you from that either."

Ian flinched then looked down. Silence was left in the wake of Tala's powerful words but then Ian mustered up the courage to say something quietly.

"I was adopted once… it was nice." There was a little hope in his eyes as he looked up to Tala, but that hope was quickly squashed by the look Tala was sending him.

"And see where that got you. You depended on them and they left you. They died and you were left homeless. You were lucky that the Abbey recognized your potential. You see? You must depend on no one except yourself, look to no one but yourself for inspiration and when others conspire to knock you down, you just have to look inside of yourself to find that light that guides you."

"For someone spouting such righteous religious sermons, you're one to talk about dependence, _Tala_." Bryan's words were harsh, unforgiving and Tala nearly flinched, but he didn't. He had an answer to that, too.

"We all have our weaknesses, Bryan. It's what makes us human." Here he sent the stoic boy a pointed look. "Kai was my friend. And in spite of what I try to make myself believe, he will always be my friend. You too, have your own places." This seemed an unreasonably awkward comment and Bryan had to look away. But Spencer watched Tala closely; he didn't miss how his Captain had said Kai's name, instead of referring to the boy as 'him'.

"Tala, you do know he doesn't care about you anymore, right?" Spencer said slowly. "_Right?_" He asked again when he got no response.

Tala remained silent.

"If he cared, he would have made some indication of it last year… Hell, he could have even just looked at us! But he didn't, Tala. He ignored us like we were strangers to him. How is that friendship?"

"I didn't talk to him either." Tala said slowly.

"You were justified! He left us, years ago, after the accident, without even a second glance. And then he has the gall to not only show up again, but to ignore us? You have every right in the world to hate him; I can't understand why you don't." Spencer looked frustrated, wrinkling his nose and clenching his jaw in distaste.

"It's… complicated, Spencer." Tala sighed. How could he explain the relationship he'd had with Kai to Bryan, Ian and Spencer? They had never experienced that kind of bond before. Sure they were all friends… but he and Kai had been more than friends, they had been brothers. Through thick and thin, back and front, they'd been through it all… And for Na—Kai to just up and leave, without even saying goodbye… It _was_ unforgivable... and yet, he'd already forgiven him before he'd even set eyes on him last year.

Tala didn't know why he'd forgiven Kai though and he had tried very hard to hate him, to loath him with every fiber of his being, like he was supposed to. But he couldn't… and so he had avoided Kai, coming up with every excuse to prevent being alone with him…

He had never talked to Kai… had never mustered the courage…

And then he'd disappeared again.

Tala swore that if he ever got the chance again, he _would_ talk to Kai. Courage or not, enough was enough and Tala was tired of wondering where he stood with the mysterious Hiwatari.

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**_End Chapter Fifteen_…**

**… _To Be Continued_**

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ARGH! That was seriously as hard as pulling teeth! I spent WAY too much time on that chapter… I just got stuck… _massively_… It was the worst find of writer's block: I knew exactly what I wanted to say… and no idea how to say it. Anyway, I finally revealed Tala and the Demolition Boys though, which I'm happy with. Please tell me what you think of their characters. I took some liberties in deciding his character, mainly because he never _really _had one in season one and his character in season three is unrealistic, since he never left the Abbey… So yeah, not my best chapter, but definitely one of the longest, also the one which I worked hardest on! So please tell me what you thought!

Now, readers and reviewers! As you can see from the shortness of this note, I am no longer writing reviewer responses at the end of the chapter. I've found that for the last couple of chapters I've occasionally refrained from saying everything I wanted, simply because I didn't want the reviewer response section to overpower the actual chapter. But after the effort you guys spent writing me reviews, I feel that's not fair to you; so therefore I will be using the Reply PM method from now on. Also I wasn't exactly very organized about how I responded to last chapter's reviews, so if I _accidentally_ forgot to respond to you, please, please, please don't be mad at me! I didn't mean to, and I'll definitely be keeping better track of it in the future!

To all of you who are reviewing anonymously (which, for anyone who doesn't know, just means that you're reviewing without being a member of FFnet), don't worry, I haven't forgotten about you! I will continue to include all responses to any anonymous reviews I receive at the end of subsequent chapter.

Wow, I can't believe I actually have to do this! I never thought I'd get the huge reviewer response that I've so far received for this fiction. For that I thank you all! I appreciate your support immensely.

**Canyx:** Hiya! I'm glad you thought Kai was in character, I was afraid I made him talk too much in the last chapter XD. Anyway, what did you think about this chapter? Hilary was in _way _over her head, trying to talk to the Demolition Boys, poor girl (_smirk_).

**Sciura:** Ha, ha (grin) but isn't that the true beauty of amateur writing? You never know when you're going to find a diamond in the rough! Right? Ha, ha…heh, heh…uhh…(silence)…Okay then, bad reference, XP never mind then! I am really sorry about the long wait: a little thing called life and my old friend writer's block decided to team up and whack me over the head with a piano (yes, literally, it hurt, I'm still pulling scales out of my hair…). Anyways… I know I'm evil: keeping all you wonderful readers from the inevitable reunion but I CAN say that it will NOT take another ten chapters for them to meet, isn't that great?! (Longer silence)… Ah… ha, I'm not doing very well with this response, am I? Well, then! I'll just go… start the next chapter now… byeya! XD

**And Thanks to everyone else who reviewed!**

**Adio!**


	18. Max's Issues, Rei's Concern

**Chapter 16**

**Hey!** Check out my new bio pic! It's a little 'self portrait' (snort) I drew of myself for a project a few years back XP

AND!! **SPECIAL NOTE!!** One reviewer, **OkamiKai** has very, very kindly said she's going to make a fanart for my pic!! It's amazing, my first fanart! I can't believe it at all! For now, the idea is pending, but please, all of you guys should check out her gallery on deviantart! Her work is beautiful and I'm sure you'll all like it! The link is: www. okamikai. deviantart. com (with the spaces removed).

**Disclaimer:** Beyblade is not mine.

For everyone out there who loves Max!

Enjoy!

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

_After the world championships in Russia, Kai just wanted to vanish. Then one day, inevitably, Kai is drawn back and ensnared in an intricate web of magic and legends; wrought by forsaken history and controlled by none other than Voltaire. _

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"_A short saying oft contains much wisdom"_

—Sophocles (496 BC-406 BC)

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**Chapter 16:** **_Max's Issues; Rei's Concern_**

"Mom!" Max cried again, leaning back after hugging his mother. Judy smiled back at her son, while smoothing her lab coat, only too aware of the keen eyes of her delegated team watching her curiously.

"Hello, Max."

"Judy," Max turned to see his father walking up to join them. "It's good to see you again, it's been... how long?"

"Three days, Alex." Judy said with an exasperated look.

Alex laughed. "This is true."

"It's still good to see you again, Mom," Max insisted, while his father sent a discreet waving motion over to the All-Starz, who eventually got the point and moved away to speak with the other teams.

Realizing they no longer had an audience; Judy quickly bent and scooped her son up into a hug. If her son had noticed her hesitation before, he didn't show it. "I missed you too, Max."

Max chuckled over her shoulder, "Aw Mom, s'okay. It's only been a few days."

Judy pulled away and held her son at arm's length. "Any amount of time is too long." She said truthfully, then glanced at her ex-husband. "Which reminds me, did your father—"

Max nodded, suddenly sober "He told me, yeah."

Judy's eyes lit up. "And what do you think?" She smiled, expecting him to do the same, but when Max's eyes fell from hers, the smile slowly slipped off her face and her hands dropped from his arms. "What's wrong?" She asked, concerned, "I thought you'd be happy to move to the US, you've always wanted to." Judy glanced at Alex, who stayed quiet, then back at Max.

The boy sighed. "I know, and I _do _want us to be together… but…" He looked to the side and when Judy followed his gaze she saw Tyson, Kenny and Rei chatting animatedly with the Majestics, who had just arrived. Judy opened her mouth to say something, but Max spoke first.

"Why didn't you ever ask me do join the All-Starz?"

Judy's breath caught in her throat. "I already—"

"No," Max interrupted and stared up at his Mother with sad eyes. "You gave me a lot of excuses… I was too young… too inexperienced… but that's not good enough. I'm your son, you could have trained me. I want to know _why_, why you never even told me you were managing a team, in the sport you _know_ I love!"

Judy took a deep breath and exchanged glances with Alex, silently asking for help.

"Euh…Max…" Mr. Tate began awkwardly and then continued in a slow deliberate voice, "I admit that perhaps we are both at fault for that."

Max turned to his father, confusion clear on his face. "What?"

Judy brushed a hand carefully over her hair, conscious of her hairstyle and making the motion purely to have something to do. "You see Max, your father and I stayed in contact after you left America four years ago."

"You did?" Max was shocked, why had no one told him? He asked them as much.

Mr. Tate laughed without much humor. "It's funny how something that seems like a good idea at the time later turns out to seem incredibly stupid."

Judy shot him an annoyed look. "What he means to say, is that we… we thought it would be easier for you to move on if there was some distance between us."

"So you just refused to let Mom talk to me?" Max looked at his father incredulously then turned to his mother. "And you didn't want to?" He sounded hurt.

"Max," Judy sighed. "It wasn't like that at all—"

"We thought it would be for the best, Max." Alex interjected quickly, gauging his son's feelings and realizing it wasn't the time for exasperation. "We saw how it was tearing you up inside, being separated from your Mother. We thought… we thought that if you had a little time to figure things out and get a better handle on things it would be better for you in the long run, rather than prolonging the pain."

"Didn't you ever think I would _want_ to talk to Mom?" Max's voice was quiet, but the strain was clear in his tone.

"Of course we did, Max!" Mr. Tate grasped his son by the shoulders and turned the boy so he was facing him. He looked straight at Max, trying to emphasis his words. "We just wanted you to be happy, son. You were in a whole new country, with new people, a new house, new language and society… so far from everything you'd ever known. And you didn't understand why your Mother hadn't come with us… you kept asking when 'Mommy was going to come'… how could I tell you that she wasn't coming? How could I break your heart like that? So we decided to wait until you had moved on, matured a little, before…" Mr. Tate stopped, seeming to be at a loss for words. He straightened, and his eyes fell on the other Bladebreakers. "Then you met Tyson and the others, and I am forever grateful for the happiness they returned to you. Your Mother and I made a terrible mistake. All I ask is that you give us another chance to make things right."

Max was silent and his parents regarded him patiently.

"I want a family," he said at length. "But I don't want to leave my friends… please, Mom, Dad, I just need some time… to think about all this."

Judy nodded. "Of course."

Max turned to walk away, but was halted by his father's hand on his shoulder.

"Oh and Max," Mr. Tate added. "There's one other thing you should know."

Max turned back. "yeah?"

"If we _do _decide to move back to America, your mother and I…uh… well we… were thinking that… ah… uh…we—" Mr. Tate looked extremely uncomfortable now as he shifted from one foot to the other. It was his turn to look to Judy for help.

"—Could perhaps try again." Judy filled in with her usual straightforward nature.

Max's expression morphed from confused to disbelieving before settling on shocked. "What?... You mean you two would…?"

Judy and Alex exchanged smiles.

"But you're both so different! And you're always arguing!"

"Yes." Mr. Tate agreed. "But we have decided to move past that. We'll start out living together and see where it takes us from there. We want to try. After all, we have finally found something we both have in common. Something we value above all else—"

"—We both love you and want you to be happy, Max." Judy finished

"You know, you should really stop finishing my sentences." Alex said, pretending to be miffed.

Judy just laughed.

It was a good thing that his parents were occupied, as Max was busy trying to control an embarrassed blush on the side… his parents were willing to try and get along… for him? Ever since he had been old enough to understand what 'divorce' meant he had never even allowed himself to consider the possibility of his parents getting back together.

"Wow… what can I say? That's… amazing! It's a lot to take in… but wow!"

"It's ok Max; you have time to consider all of this." Judy assured her son.

Once again, Max turned to walk away, and once again, he turned back. "It's just a lot of information all at once… I mean, first I find out Dad's thinking about moving back to the US, then we find out Kai's missing, now this!"

Judy's eyes snapped up at that. "Kai…" she remembered that name. "Isn't he that quiet boy in your team, who never says much? He was nice, a fair blader too, when he wasn't stealing bitbeasts that is."

Mr. Tate raised an eyebrow, intrigued in spite of himself; finding out about this boy seemed to be becoming some sort of pet project. He could write a book with all the things he kept finding out. "Nice?" He repeated, raising an eyebrow. "I think you're the first person I've heard say _that _about him. What gave you that impression?"

To Alex's surprise, Judy's eyes widened and flickered up to his for a moment, and he noticed her hand stray to fiddle with the buttons of her pressed shirt, a nervous habit he had noticed years ago, usually meaning that she was feeling unduly guilty or nervous about something she was not comfortable with people finding out about. It was very typical of her, Alex noted, Judy was always trying to remain independent and aloof, always hiding her faults. He would have to push, or he wouldn't get any answers.

"What happened, Judy? Does it have to do with Max?" The silence stretched after his comment, her pride held, and a frown grew on Alex's face as he remembered one of the reasons he had continually fought with her.

"Dad…_Dad_." Alex looked down as he felt his son's concerned hand on his arm. No, he didn't want Max to answer him, we wanted Judy to—

"I think Mom's talking about that time we tried to sneak into the lab, right?" Max looked at his mother, who nodded, clearly relaxing as Max dispelled the uneasy tension that had fallen. Alex let out a breath of annoyance. If Judy had done something, then she should be the one to explain it. This was not the time for Max to play peacemaker.

"I didn't tell you this before Dad, but at the lab, Kai kinda…savedmylife." He muttered the last part so quietly the Japanese man didn't get it.

"He what?"

"He… saved me life, Dad."

"…" For a second Alex's mind processed this and he stood stupefied. Then his tongue came back. "WHAT?!"

"It's true." Max rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "We tried to sneak into the lab, and I saw Mom and ran ahead, but I tripped one of the lasers and this huge glass door came down. It would have squished me if Kai hadn't tackled me out of the way, but we got away in time." Max tried to dull the effect of the words with his flippant tone, but to no avail as his father's eyes grew with shock and fixed onto Judy.

The woman sighed. "Thank god he did too, I don't know how it happened; the glass just fell…"

"You _saw_ it fall?" There was something sharp in Alex's tone, something accusing. '_You saw Max was in danger, and you just stood there. You just stood by while someone else, someone we barely even know, had to save our son. I'm __**sure**__ you don't know how it fell_.' Mr. Tate didn't believe a word of it. Judy was passing off responsibility and as usual, she refused to accept when she was at fault for something.

But for the sake of his son, he refused to start a fight here and now with his ex. Instead he turned to his son. "Why didn't you tell me any of this before? And just why exactly were you doing running around security areas? Were you hurt?"

Max gave his father a lopsided grin. "It's ok Dad, I just wanted to see Mom, so I dragged Tyson, Kenny and Rei into coming along." '_Not Kai?'_ Was Alex's silent question. "And everything turned out ok, I'm fine, Kai turned up just in time and he never made a big deal out of it, so everyone let it slide."

Mr. Tate's eyes shifted to Judy once more, '_I understand the children brushing it off, but you? Since when did you take our son's life so lightly?'_ But she staunchly avoided his gaze.

"Dad, really, stuff like that happened all the time" Max, sensing the renewed tension blundered on, not realizing he was making the situation worse. "Like there were these weird zombie bladers, and the thing on Lake Baikal, and there was this time when Rei twisted his ankle on the mountains in China. Tyson had to carry him all the way to the stadium while Kai and I stalled… Actually I kinda toyed with the guy; Kai had to remind me that what I was doing was dishonorable…" As Mr. Tate was left to wonder at his son's continuing safety in this sport, Max was soon lost in thought.

"Rei and Tyson hadn't shown up yet…" the boy's voice grew quieter. "So Kai had to battle, even though he himself was having issues with Beyblading…" Max's voice trailed off as he remembered what he had seen.

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'**;**.**;**' _Flashback... Max's Point of View _'**;**.**;**'

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YES! Tyson totally beat the last Blade Hunter… Chucky… or was it Zippy?

Now we get to advance to the finals!

Tyson runs over and Rei claps him on the back. I go closer, wanting to congratulate him too… But then I see Kai sliding off into the shadows.

I don't get it. He just helped us win the semifinals and now he's running away? Well, I'm not going to let him do that. He's going to celebrate this victory with us, and he's gonna enjoy it… even if it kills him!

I move away from Tyson and Rei and jog over to where I'd seen Kai. It looked like he'd just disappeared into that shadowy corner, but that doesn't make any sense, so I go closer.

Oh! There's a door here! I would have stopped to consider HOW Kai knew there was a door here, but I didn't have the time.

I open the door just enough to slide past it and look around the new room I'm in. I'm just in time to see the very end of Kai's twin scarves slip around a corner… very very far down a very very long hallway…

I quickly run to catch up: down the hall, down another hall (_wow he's fast!_) and up a few flights of stairs.

'_Wow, how far is he going?'_

Suddenly I see there's only one door left to go through, and as I step through I find myself on the roof. I hear a voice and… not really knowing why I'm doing it…duck to hide around a chimney type of thing sticking out of the roof. On the other side of it, someone is talking…Kai. But who's he talking to?

"Yes..._hai_…_iie…_no" I don't get it at first. Why's he talking is English and Japanese? And he's answering randomly… he must be talking on the phone. '_Duh'_ I mentally smack myself. '_Of course, who would hang out on a roof? …Except him… and me…never mind'_ I cut myself off as I hear Kai's answers change, now he's just talking in English.

"Look I—…no…yes, I know…but it was important that I—…We would have been disqualified!"

I wonder who's on the other side of the phone, I mean, _no one _ever interrupts _Kai_ this much! And Kai never raises his voice, _ever_!

"…no…I am not making excuses... No I am not becoming weak!... They mean nothing to me!"

I shrink at this. I know he's talking about us—the Bladebreakers. '_Then what does he really think about us?'_

I hear Kai utter a sound of frustration ('_he never does that, just gets grouchy or walks away'_) and snap his phone shut. The conversation is clearly over. I turn to sneak away, all thoughts of getting him to join in the fun gone. He sounds like he's in a bad mood, and if he really doesn't care about us—

"Max."

I freeze.

"Max. I know you are there, come out."

Sheepishly (and, I admit, a bit fearfully) I step around the corner, expecting to be hit hard with a death glare. But, No! I'm seeing Kai slumped with his back on the chimney. He actually _looks tired_!

"What's wrong?" Immediately I fall into concerned mode, and reach out to my Captain. But he waves me off and shoves himself off the wall.

"Nothing. I'm fine. Don't touch me." His words are clipped and fearing retribution, I retract my hand.

Before my eyes he seems to gather himself, growing at least a few inches and turning back into his usual stoic self. He walks past me but before he can leave the roof, I gather the courage to ask him a question.

"Why aren't you supposed to blade?"

He stiffens obviously, his hand suspended over the doorknob. I'm sure I see something flicker in his eyes, but it's quickly stomped on. '_Why does he stifle his emotions?'_ I wonder sadly. Yet I can remember doing the same once. '_I wonder what he gains form that? Maybe the same thing I thought I did… hurting less.'_

"What is it to you?"

I step forward and meet his eyes fully, even if I have to look up a little. His eyes, the strangest color of red I have ever seen, stare blankly back at me. I realize there is nothing mean about his look and nothing cynical either, I wonder why I've never noticed that before.

"It means a lot to me, I'm concerned about you." I answer as truthfully as I can. He is silent. "Just tell me the truth."

"My Grandfather is refusing me the right to Beyblade."

"What...?"... I stare at him and blink a few times... Honestly I hadn't been expecting him to answer, definitely with so little pushing. But wait... what did he say? His _Grandfather_? Kai has a Grandfather? Why wouldn't he want Kai to blade? No—wait, he LISTENS to his Grandfather? Kai never listens to ANYBODY, and definitely never someone who wants him to do something he doesn't want to do. Kai loves to blade, that's obvious to _everyone_, I mean, he practically wakes up at dawn every day to practice! And then, he wakes US up!

And _that's _something, especially when one of us is Tyson!

"Why is—" I pause... No I can't ask him why his Grandfather would say that, it's too personal. "Why... Why are you listening to him?" There, I think that's a good question, for Kai anyway.

He surprises me by looking to the side and letting out a short, puffing sigh through his nose. There's more to this than I thought.

"You and Rei hang out too much, you know that?"

"Huh?" It's all I can say to the strange question... I feel somehow like I've just witnessed a completely spontaneous Kai moment, and didn't understand a bit of it.

Kai moves then and walks towards the edge of the roof. I follow; he's getting too close to the edge. He keeps walking, until he's so close to falling off that the tips of his shoes are hanging off the roof. I bite my tongue; I can't just tell him not to get so close to the edge. He reaches to the side and wraps his fingers around a pole.

My attention snaps from his stance to his hidden face when he suddenly begins speaking. His voice is low, but calculated, like he's already thought through his answer in his head.

"My Grandfather is a very ambitious man... and also very persuasive. Let us leave it at that." I frown, concern nagging at me, '_what does Kai mean by that?'_ "Now come, the finals are in two hours. You need to prepare."

I blink, c'mon, now even I'm not _that _dense. That topic change was so obvious I couldn't have _not _noticed it. But what can I do about it? Kai is incredibly secretive about some things and no one can get him to talk when he doesn't want to.

He twists around, scarves flapping around the pole as he walks away from the edge and past me. I turn to follow, sighing. Maybe I can ask Tyson about this, I wonder if he knows anything about Kai's Grandfather?

"Max."

I stop and look up, Kai's reached the door. He's not facing me.

"Listen," He continues, his voice is slow and deliberate, almost as though he's not sure if he really wants to say this. I listen extra hard. "If you were ever to take one piece of advice from me, take this: sometimes in our lives we are asked to judge others, to weigh their worth and errs upon our own moral scale. But it is not our right to do so." He turns and faces me, I just watch, something in his words or tone holding me there.

"A person's true nature is never realized if one does not even give her the chance to express herself. Blood cannot be taken, it can only be given. If you are so lucky to have someone willing to share this connection with you, though erring, it is only right that you in return be sympathetic to her faults."

Before I can say another word Kai has disappeared so fast it looked like he walked through the door.

But instead of following, I remain standing there.

'_What was he talking about?_

'_Judging someone? Family? 'Her'? A woman? Was he talking about my mother?'_ I'm not sure what he was talking about, but I do know one thing, and that's enough to make a smile form on my face.

'_Kai's actually opening up a little! _

'_There's some hope for him yet.'_

* * *

'**;**.**;**' _End Flashback... End Max's Point of View _'**;**.**;**'

* * *

'_And in the end, he was right. Mom and I made up, and now I see I can't blame Mom and Dad for doing something that they thought was right. I love them, and we can work through this. I never thought Kai's words would have been so... helpful'_ And yet, Max felt sad.

"You know it's strange," pondered Mr. Tate out loud. "I keep hearing so many things about this Kai, but everyone still insists they know nothing about him."

"That's the way he is, he unconsciously pushes people away making everyone think he's cold and emotionless, yet just when he has you believing it, he does something, no matter how small, that hints otherwise."

Max looked to the side to see who had spoken.

"Rei, hey." Max's voice was less than enthusiastic.

Judy and Alex both greeted the Chinese boy, who gave a short bow in return. "Hello, Mr. Tate," He then looked at Judy, bowing again. "Ma'am."

"Call me Judy." She smiled. "Or Ms. Tate." Alex looked at her in surprise at that. "You still use your married name?" He asked; she gave a non-committal shrug in return.

Rei meanwhile turned to Max. "Hey Max, all the teams are here now, so Mr. D sent me over to say we're almost ready to start the meeting. And Ms. Tate, I think you're wanted over there at the table."

Judy nodded. "Right" and they moved toward the conference room.

* * *

'**;**.**;**' _On the other side of the room... _'**;**.**;**'

* * *

"You know Johnny, this is a FORMAL get-together; I don't think a SKIRT is very APPROPRIATE."

"Shut-it, you're one to talk Mr. 'I'm-gonna-stuff-my-face-like-a-pig-until-my-Grandfather-knocks-me-out-with-a-stick' . And it ain't no SKIRT iz a KILT!"

Tyson glared at the Scottish redhead for a few seconds, unable to reply due to the large piece of pancake in his mouth. Once he had swallowed though, the Japanese boy was quick to retort. "S-not a stick, it's a KENDO stick— I mean, SWORD."

Johnny gave Tyson an exaggerated eye roll. "Ooh, great comeback Tyson, big diff, it's wood, soz's still a stick."

"That is quite enough out of you two. _V_e have a meeting to attend, lest you forget." Robert interjected, interposing himself between the two boys. "Quite frankly, you both are degrading yourselves to the status of infants. It is uncouth."

"He started it!"

"Did not!"

"DID TOO!"

"DID NOT!"

"DID—"

"QUI—_ET_!" Everyone in the room, not just Tyson and Johnny, froze and turned when they heard the shriek. Suddenly under the scrutiny of the entire room, Hilary flushed with embarrassment. "_Ano_… a … sorry everyone, I was just trying to get them to stop arguing." She rubbed her nose, trying to hide the blush growing there, and only succeeded in making it larger. "_Ano_… you can all go back to what you were doing now…"

Max was giggling as he approached Hilary, Johnny and Tyson, Rei, his father and mother passing the group with short, fond smiles at their son before moving into the meeting room."Good luck with that one." He grinned at the girl.

"Tyson's as stubborn as a mule sometimes," Rei added with a smirk.

Robert raised a finely defined eyebrow. "He could not possibly be _v_orse than Johnny, the boy is so… how _v_ould you Americans say it? _Hotheaded_, yes. He is so hotheaded, he is practically on fire." Robert emphasized this by flicking his wrist in the general direction of Johnny's red hair, which stuck up in so many different directions it could easily have been compared to flames.

Max jumped to meet the German blader's challenge. "Oh yeah? Well you shoulda seen Tyson after Hilary stuck that piece of gum in his hair."

Robert gave a bark of laughter that seemed to come straight from his diaphragm. "Ha! You should have seen Johnny after Enrique 'accidentally' let a horde of fangirls into our room at four am on the day of the European finals!"

The two were soon glaring at each other.

Meanwhile… nearby, but not so near as to be wantonly drawn into the middle of things…

"_Mamma mia_, I thought Tyson and Johnny were the ones fighting." Enrique whispered to Oliver, putting a hand to his head dramatically.

"I am confused." Oliver agreed.

"I did not-a know Bobby had it in him…" Enrique looked at his Captain with renewed respect. "But about the other two?"

"Oh I wouldn't worry about them." Rei said from behind the two Europeans, He pointed to the right. "Look, they're too busy getting yelled at by Hilary." Indeed the two hotheaded boys looked sufficiently cowed by an irate Hilary, who cut an intimidating figure: eyes flashing and arms flailing as she lectured.

"I do not know Max can glare." Lee said, more focused on the staring contest going on.

"He can't. Just watch." And, with a confident flick, Rei jerked his head to look at the hands on a nearby clock. "3…2…1…—"

Just before he said '0', Max erupted into a fit of giggles and walked away to join his parents and the All-Starz in the conference room. Robert was left standing alone, the flummoxed expression on his face priceless.

"Robert, hey, man, you Ok?" Lee asked, putting a hand on the German noble's shoulder.

"What happened?" Mariah asked as she, Gary and Kevin came over. Kevin raised an eyebrow while Gary let out a muffled sound between bites of food. It sounded like a cross between a stifled snort and a choke. Rei would have responded, but Enrique got there first.

"Ha, ha, I think he is-a just realizing he has-a lost. C'mon Bobby, ol' chum, your bruised ego can-a heal in the conference room." The blond Italian laughed, slapping his Captain on the shoulder as he passed.

Robert blinked. "…_Was?_" _What?_ Was his confused question in German.

"Come, Ca_h_ptain, Mama ha_h_s already gone in, you remember, _Mama_, our mana_hj_er?" added Oliver, heading into the room.

"Ah," Was all Robert had to say as he followed Oliver.

"C'mon, Johnny-boy." Enrique stated, plucking the redhead away from his 30th recitation of: "If I don't have anything nice to say, I won't say anything at all."

As soon as he was removed from Hilary's immediate sight, Johnny made a relieved noise. "I never thought I'd be saying this, but thank God, Ricky, that girl's a nasty bi—"

"Ex_cuse_ me?" Hilary's dangerous hiss made Johnny freeze and pale.

"Uh…." He fumbled. "nasty, bi-…i…t, a bit, yeah, Oliver's Unicolyn's been giving 'im a bit o' trouble lately, huh?" He turned imploring eyes onto Enrique, who instead of being sympathetic, grinned back at the other boy mischievously. Johnny quickly determined that asking for backup from Enrique was probably a bad idea, and he hastily changed the topic.

"What cho' waitin' for? Les' go!"

Hilary watched their retreating backs with a frown, hands planted firmly on her hips, neither amused nor fooled by their theatrics. Tyson took this chance to run away and join Rei.

"Hey, Rei! What're you waitin' for? Let's go."

Rei didn't move. He stood still, facing the entrance door. "Elder Wong." He said shortly.

"Who?" Tyson frowned.

"Elder Wong," Rei repeated, this time he glanced at Tyson. "He is the chieftain of our village. He is also a Grand Master."

"So he trained and managed the White Tigers?" Kenny spoke up for the first time.

Rei gave a sharp nod "Yes."

"Well, why are you waiting out here?" Tyson asked, confused.

Kenny looked at him incredulously, "Are you kidding? Have you seen that room? There are only six seats, one for each manager and Mr. D. No one else was originally supposed to attend this meeting, but people complained, so this is the result."

Tyson groaned. "Oh man, I hope the meeting isn't too long…"

Rei wasn't listening, his eyes were narrowed and staring at the door, then they flicked to the side as they caught Lee approaching him.

"Lee, is Elder coming?"

Lee paused, and Rei saw him glance quickly over to Tyson and Kenny before looking back at him. "_Bùxíng_" _No._ He answered in Mandarin. Tyson and Kenny didn't understand, but Rei seemed to completely drop the subject, and turned to usher the others towards the board room. Once Tyson and Kenny had moved on, and distracted by Robert (who had idled outside of the conference room for some reason), Rei immediately turned on Lee, his expression demanding an answer.

"Grand Master can not come, he send me in his place." Lee spoke in English, but in a low whisper.

Rei frowned. "Why?"

"Elder is… ill these past days." Lee said this hesitantly, as though just saying the words was bad luck.

"Ill?" Rei straighten in concern. "He isn't…?"

"He is ok." Lee's voice held certain finality.

"But if he isn't, you know you—"

"He is fine!" the White Tiger captain did not raise his voice, but added such an inflection in his tone he might as well have.

"But if he is _not_," Rei pressed. "You are the next in line."

"Yes,"

"Are you prepared for the trial?"

"That is not of concern to you," Lee shot back, and Rei leaned back, a hurt expression flashing across his face. But Lee did not relent. "You have gone, remember?" Yes, Rei knew he had left his village, but…

"I'm worried about you, Lee, what if—"

But then they neared Tyson and Robert, Rei quietened, but shot Lee a look that promised a return to this conversation.

In the meantime, Kenny had headed into the room. Robert had then inquired about the identity of the Bladebreakers' manager, Tyson had adopted an uncomfortable look, but before he even had begun to answer, but they had reached the door and pushed it open. As soon as he saw past the door, anything Tyson could or would have said died on his lips, to be replaced by a stunned "Whoa…"

Robert snorted, folding his arms. "Yes," Disdain colored his voice. "There _v_as a reason _v_hy I removed myself from the room. How very…uncouth."

Disorganized would have been a nice way of putting it.

Anarchy would have been more accurate.

Johnny and Michael had started a game of poker on the table (which, if anyone looked closer, actually resembled a mutilated game of fish) while Max watched on interestedly. Enrique was trying to charm Hilary, Mariah and Emily simultaneously which a blind man could have seen was not going to end well. To this effect, Oliver and Kevin were betting enthusiastically on which girl was going to hit the Italian first.

Kenny meanwhile, looked extremely harassed as he raced back and forth across the room. He was on the difficult mission of trying to get everything settled by talking to Mr. and Ms. Tate and Mrs. Marselis, who unfortunately, were situated on polar opposites of the room. Steve and Eddie shamelessly hindered this process by tripping the small boy up every time he passed them. Dizzy, in spite of her closed top, squealed loudly every time Kenny stumbled.

Finally, Mr. Dickenson stood at the head of the table, twisting his head in all directions, trying to decipher the mess, but unable to do anything to stop it. At his side, Gary stood, looking relatively satisfied as he munched on a puffy pastry and watched the scene before him like a movie.

In fact, the only orderly people in the room were the Russians. Voltaire was sitting ramrod straight in his assigned seating, while Boris took a position to his immediate right, standing with arms behind his back and impeccable posture. Exactly two paces behind the man stood Tala, Bryan, Spencer and Ian, in that order, and in a perfect line. They mimicked Boris' stance, except with their hands by their sides; they neither leaned on the wall behind them nor swayed back and forth on their feet. The only obvious movement from them was their periodic blinking, however an astute person would have noticed their eyes flicker just fractionally as they watched the antics of the others.

Rei, standing at the threshold of the room, could only stop and stare in shock. "This…isn't very professional." He said slowly, as though to assure himself that the world hadn't turned upside down while he wasn't looking.

"Indeed." Robert intoned, stepping up next to him.

Tyson grabbed onto Rei's arm, peering around him. "Oh cool! They're playing poker, I want in!" and with that, the Japanese blader pushed past the two and dove into the fray. Rei felt someone else pass him and looked over.

"Lee!" He gave his old friend a scandalized look.

Lee just gave a sheepish shrug. "Ah…it is necessary, adult supervision?" And with that he walked over to 'supervise' Tyson at the poker table.

Robert leaned against the doorframe, not making any move to intervene, while Rei just stared.

"This… is going to take awhile."

* * *

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**_End Chapter Sixteen_…**

**… _To Be Continued_**

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**Important Story Note: **I was going to add a short blurb here about my reasoning for Kai's slightly out of character attitude in all the flashbacks but I got tired of writing. If anyone wants an explanation of this, just ask; I'll be glad to provide! If a lot of people ask, then I'll include a short note in the next chapter! That's all!

**Edit note: **I made a few changes to chapter 15. Nothing huge, just fixed some mistakes here and there. Most noticeably would be that I had said Ian's hair was green, instead of purple. Thanks goes to **UNpReDiCtAbLE lIfE** for pointing that out!

I know! I cheated! Technically a flashback Kai isn't the same as Kai in person but I PROMISE he'll be in the next chapter!

Oh and thanks very much to everyone who reviewed the two last chapters (I was in such a rush to get the last chapter out I forgot to list all my reviewers!! I'm so sorry about that!):

**Canyx:** Wow, really? Your favorite chapter? That's great! I spent so much time on that chapter that that's incredibly good to hear. There IS a lot of stuff going on in this story, so many sub plots that even **I** have a hard time keeping track of all of them (sometimes I just stop and think 'OH! I forgot all about Tala's side story! Now what's going to happen to him?' I even wrote out a long plotline, character profiles included, for this story!! I tell ya, this story's slowly taking over my life XD). Anyway, more back story for Max and Rei, I hope you liked it!

**For all my reviewers:**

**kavbj, terracannon876, wolf's lament, lady KCassandra, Raykou-Kun, Miako6, phoenix-falling, FlamingIce94, Canyx, DancerInTheDark101, BloodRedViolet, AngeLhearteD, bladz-liska, Sciura, d1bontemp, ladyofwest, UNpReDiCtAbLE lIfE, catchmeloon, fawks136, OkamiKai and Kais-lil-lover**

**Adio!**

**Sholay**


	19. To Free the Soul

**Chapter 17**

You have Kai's-lil-lover to thank for the promptness of this chapter! I was going to wait another week, but she asked for this chapter as a birthday present. So this is for you, Kai's-lil-lover! And I hope you had an amazing birthday!

**Disclaimer:** Still not mine

* * *

**KEY: **

— _**I**_**I** …_(italics)… __**I**_**I -- **denotes a change in language

— **_I_I** …_**(bold)…**_ _**I**_**I -- **denotes a second change in language

— **¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤ -- **denotes a change in point of view

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Eh he… heh heh (_scopes out a place to hide_)… uhmmm… Enjoy! (_runs away_)

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

_After the world championships in Russia, Kai just wanted to vanish. Then one day, inevitably, Kai is drawn back and ensnared in an intricate web of magic and legends; wrought by forsaken history and controlled by none other than Voltaire. _

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'**;**.**;**'

"_poshlost (__**puhsh-**__lust)(noun)(Russian): This word, which one can imagine uttered with a contemptuous curl of the lip, indicates an acute awareness of the hollowness of false values and the need to deride and deflate them."_

— Christopher J. Moore. _In __**Other **__Words_

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**Chapter 17: _To Free the Soul_**

I spare the brummagem turret clock on a nearby tower a perfunctory glance.

_09:00_

That should be sufficiently late… they have probably only begun the meeting.

I pull myself to my feet slowly, tearing my eyes away from the sky and letting them instead rest slightingly on the cold earth. Stepping lightly, I catch hold of the metal ladder and swing my feet over the guardrail. Securing the balls of my feet on the ladder rail, I skim to the bottom of the ladder, catching the last rung to stop my momentum before letting go and dropping the last few feet, snow padding my fall.

Not allowing myself a moment's hesitation, I start off towards the pavilion, rubbing my hands together on the way to rid them of the freezing sting of the metal rail. The cold has never been my favored element.

I pull my trench coat close around me and raise the hood. I will not allow another person to catch me so off guard as the first did. The crowd has grown over the past hour; close to a block has now become overrun by excited fans and imposters trying to impersonate the Bladebreakers. I brush by yet another Rei fan and have to stifle the derogatory snort at the kid's ridiculous outfit, honestly, Rei's hair is hardly blond, and those obscene fangs liken him more to Dracula than the Chinese neko-jin.

Weaving through the crowd, I notice guards, police and even suspicious looking, citizens—or rather, plain-clothed detectives—interspaced between people. No doubt this mob will be broken down and dispersed within the hour. I notice the doorman turning away zealot after zealot. Perhaps I could lend a hand in clearing the crowds.

I head towards the doors, glancing around to estimate the number of invitations the iBBA must have sent out. '_Too many to count, even so, it is still mere luck that I managed to receive one.'_

I notice the guard a split second before his heavy hand descends on my arm, thick fingers wrapping around it and dragging me to the side roughly. It is probably this awareness alone that just saved both him and me from possibly sever consequences.

The man shoves his heavy-lipped, ruddy face almost into my hood, and I lean back. Remembering Grandfather's training, I pull myself tall, imitating the scornful stance I have so often seen him take. Immediately I see a reaction from the guard, his scowl deepens and a hand reaches for the wooden cosh at his side. I haven't even lowered my hood yet and he already considers me a threat. Another security guard looks over and Mr. Affable shakes his head and gestures dismissively; saying a few choice words in Russian that make my eyebrow rise. Apparently the guards here are more frustrated with the crowds than I had initially thought.

"_**I**_**I** _**Where go?I**_**I**" He growls at me in horrible Japanese. Well, this is amusing.

I pull out my invitation, fully aware that three or four hundred people behind me have the same leverage and not caring.

"_**I**_**I** _I have an invitation._ _**I**_**I**" I state calmly in Russian. The guard lifts his bushy eyebrows in surprise and the weed on his upped lip twitches. But he answers likewise.

"_**I**_**I** _Oh yeah? You and half of Russia, so what, punk? __**I**_**I**" The guard is obviously not convinced, but seems relieved to be speaking Russian. "_**I**_**I** _You're the first to admit cho' can speak Russian tho', most of da bastards pretend they'z bleedin' Japs. So you're either smart or really stupid; what punk, what are ya? Didja just think I'd let you in? __**I**_**I**"

"As a matter of fact—" Goodness, my English is rusty. Pondering this for a second, I tug one of my armguards near the middle knuckle.

"I do."

I drop my hood.

For a moment I wonder if I've broken him, but then the guard's beady eyes snap into focus, widening comically as he drops my arm as though it were a live coal.

"_**I**_**I** _You… __**I**_**I**" He breaths, tone immediately different: his words, once crude, are now formal. "_**I**_**I** _You're… Lord Hiwatari's Grandson!_ _**I**_**I**" He drops into a bow, attracting not a few unwanted stares. I scowl.

"_**I**_**I** _Get up, you fool. __**I**_**I**" I hiss at him. He immediately complies, all prior authority gone.

"_**I**_**I** _Please, sir, g-go on in __**I**_**I**" He escorts me to the dark, wooden doors and nearly faints when they do not open immediately. He has to call another officer over, who arrives with unusual promptness when he learns of the situation. By the time I finally manage to get through the door, Mr. Affable is trembling openly and his superior is dumb. My face twists with distain as I pass the sad excuse of a law enforcement this city—no, country— has, I don't even bother shooting them a glare; they are not worth the effort of turning my head.

I do not bother raising my hood as I walk over the threshold, instead I walk upright, eyes directed straight ahead. The doors close behind me and I hear the guards shouting for the crowd to move along, that all the participants have arrived. I quickly round a corner and wait out of sight as the doors rattle and shake alarmingly behind me, people slamming into them and pressing their faces into the glass windows trying to glimpse my face: anything to see who the last entrant was.

A few minutes pass and the sounds recede, I sigh. '_Some of the strangest people in the world, Russians are. The proletarians hate me for who I am and the bourgeoisie will respect me for the same reason.'_

Indeed the power of my Grandfather is a mighty hammer of Thor, but wielded by the tainted hands of Jörmungandr. I look down, clenching one of my hands into a fist. Every policeman, lawyer, doctor, scientist…basically every human in this accursed country with something to lose, fears my Grandfather. Those who have lost everything turn that fear to hate, but those with ambition have learned to bow their heads and submit.

I am a mere extension of my Grandfather. All prior judgments are kindly allocated to all addendums of the aforementioned text.

The first falls and I straighten.

I have not the time to ponder on such things. Politics and social relations have struck me as much too…_antipático_. _Unpleasant._

Pushing off the wall, I make my way down the empty halls. Finally I reach the door, I lay a hand on the doorknob.

And pause.

_Apprehension. Adrenaline. _My stomach gives an unpleasant twist.

I hate people. I hate them staring at me. I hate them judging me, expecting things of me. For as long as I can remember—and longer perhaps, as my memory barely extends past my tenth birthday—I was told that I had to be the best. Every aspect of myself: my expression, my gestures, how I ate, how I talked, even how I slept had to be perfect. _Perfect._ There were no exceptions. No allowances for stage fright, for sweaty palms; for a changing voice.

Is it my fault that I hate performing? Hate standing in front of hundreds of thousand of people to perform endlessly for their fancy. Be it academic or extracurricular, I would walk up to the stage and be blinded. So many faces, voices and eyes, all judging, expecting, waiting for you to fall so they can abuse your weakness.

But I refuse to have any weakness.

I twist the knob and stride into the room.

There is no one here. Only plates and glasses of half eaten food and drink remain as testimony to the prior occupants of the room. My eyes spot a door on the opposing wall and I hear voices coming from the adjacent room, rising then dying quickly as though being shushed.

It is as I had expected; they are in the conference room. I close the door behind me and walk across the room. The whispers crescendo then recede as I approach the door.

Taking one last breath I viciously shove all conscious thought out of my head, my mind remarkably clear.

_Empty_

And I am.

I open the door.

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"Honestly, I am ashamed of all of you! You are all respected beybladers, the best in the world! You should be conducting yourselves in a manner befitting your status, not that of three year olds!"

Everyone, finally arranged orderly with managers seated and team arranged around them, listened shamefacedly as Mr. Dickenson lectured them mercilessly. Everyone, that is, except the Russian Team, who remained much the same as they had been before.

"—with the only team conducting itself with remote propriety being the _Demolition Boys_." Mr. Dickenson finished putting a meaningful emphasis on the team's name.

Voltaire's steely gaze fixed on the man. "I trust," he spoke as though to a particularly slow child. "No offence was implied, Stanley. Director Balkov and I have only acted hospitably as we open our country to you and your people. It is you who have failed to keep order within your ranks; as I believe my boys to have conducted themselves with the refinement and prudence befitting their status" He ended with an infuriating smirk that caused many frowns form the adults and barely repressed snarls from the teens.

"I don't think it's necessary to start insulting people, Mr. Hiwatari." Alex said reprovingly.

"_Lord_ Hiwatari, if you would Mr.…?"

"Tate."

"Mr. Tate." Voltaire's eyes latched onto the man with preternatural keenness, the smirk remaining even as Mr. Tate's eyes narrowed. "If we spoke only what was necessary, many in this room would be mute."

More frowns and this time mutters were heard as Voltaire sat back in his chair, looking very self satisfied as he rested his elbows on the arm rests, clasping his hands in front of him, his back straight as a lye.

"Now I know where Hiwatari gets his attitude from." Muttered Johnny to Emily, referring to Kai.

"That man is infuriating." She agreed.

"How does he keep that smirk on his face?" Michael added, leaning over and wrinkling his nose in disgust while he twirled a paintbrush between his fingers idly.

"He did it too often as a kid. Now his face is stuck that way." Emily quipped.

On the opposite end of the room other questions were being asked.

"That guy's a monster, it must be hell to live with him," whispered Tyson.

Rei nodded. "Kai did for most of his life… at least, he did when he wasn't in the Abbey."

Max shuddered. "I hate him already. I can't imagine how Kai feels."

"Chairman Dickenson must make him shut up, I do not want to listen to his garbage," Lee growled.

"People, people! Let's not get carried away!" Mr. Dickenson cried desperately as the noise level in the room rose.

Suddenly the deep slam of the heavy wooden door closing in the adjourning room was heard and there was a pause in the voices around the room. The fast pattering feet of someone jogging was heard and then the conference room door inched open. The flushed face of a frazzled guard appeared. His eyes sought out and found Mr. Dickenson.

"Sir… pardon?" He asked rough English.

"If course," Mr. Dickenson nodded, "Come in, what is the matter?"

The man stepped inside, wringing his hands and shifting his eyes sporadically to glance at everyone in the room. No one missed how his eyes widened and froze when he noticed Voltaire. The man opened his mouth to say something, but Voltaire made a small dismissive gesture and the guard snapped his gaze back to Mr. Dickenson as though nothing had happened.

"Boy is outside," He said haltingly. "Says he is part of… this" a helpless gesture at the group. Mr. Dickenson's face lifted with undisguised relief and chatter broke out immediately. By now everyone had heard of the Captain of the Bladebreakers' mysterious disappearance. Now the only question was 'is it him?'

The guard bowed to Mr. Dickenson, and hesitated for the hairsbreadth of a second before bowing to Voltaire and Boris as well. He then retreated from the room without saying another word. Voltaire looked down, then sideways at Boris in a listless manner. But Boris reacted immediately to the look, his hand quickly snapping to the phone at his side, into which he mumbled something before bending down to speak with his superior.

"_**I**_**I** _My Lord, I assure you, it is him __**I**_**I**" He said to Voltaire with all the self confidence he cold muster. "_**I**_**I** _I made sure to send out the invitations to all likely candidates, he must have received one __**I**_**I**"

Voltaire steepled his hands and was silent for awhile. Boris shifted. Finally the elder man spoke, his words slow and deliberate. "_**I**_**I** _I told you to ensure his appearance. For the sake of your continuing health you had better pray it is him. __**I**_**I**"

Boris straightened, his face unreadable, but his Adam's apple jolted, betraying his unease. He needn't have worried though, because at that moment the door opened.

Kai Hiwatari had returned.

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I can feel their vulgar eyes on me, boring into me, smothering me. I walk into the room meeting none of their stares, looking perfectly ahead. That foolish man—who's annoying, twitchy behavior had nearly lead to him smacking me with a door as he simultaneously attempted to be courteous while giving me a wide berth—forgotten for the moment.

They all expect something of me. Perhaps they wish for me to smile, to say that I am fine, maybe they expect me to snap and snarl, glaring them into submission. Or then again, they could be fantasizing an early, _timely_, death.

Inadvertently, my eyes meet those of my Grandfather. What I see there causes me great unease, a horrible wrenching feeling as I remember what I had once lived for: Abhorrence and antipathy are predominant in his gaze, but deeper I see arrogance and expectation…

…_Expectation…_

He expects me to live for him, to hold his standards on my shoulders willingly, to be _perfect._ To earn his _pride._

_Even now._

'_To think I once loved you.'_

I feel cold. Voltaire still believes he has control over me, even after I failed. Even after I ran from him. Not for the first time, I have misgivings about coming here. But I refuse to leave now, that would be unacceptable. So I fall back into nothingness.

I will not become like him. The moment in which our eyes meet feels like a lifetime, but I tear my eyes away and take another step forward.

I did not come here for him or for anyone else. I came here for myself, and for Dranzer. I refuse to be controlled any longer.

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**_End Chapter Seventeen_…**

**… _To Be Continued_**

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(_Peeks out of hiding spot, sees readers advancing with pitchforks and torches_)

Uhhhhh (_backing away_)… remember! Killing the author means you won't get to find out what happens next!

(_Readers pause, put away pitchforks and pull out various other torture devices_)

Aie! (_Runs away_)

**Canyx: **Thanks! I like Max too! He always seemed like a kind, soft spoken, sensitive kind of guy that always gets misunderstood or overlooked because his personality isn't as 'in your face' as everyone else. He adds a completely different perspective and angle on things and we'll definitely be seeing more of him as we keep going! Thanks again for the great review (I spent a lot of time trying to figure out his character, so I'm glad you liked it!) and I hope you enjoyed the chapter! (_evil grin_).

**'' kR!t#Y '':** HI! Thanks for reviewing and I'm sorry about your penname! FF. net decided it hates me… and tildes… and refused to show parts of your penname… garg… Anyway, I loved your long review! It was so much fun to read! I'm trying hard to make this story as original as possible… The main plotline may, I fear become predictable… but that's why I'm adding all these subplots to distract you XD. I'm glad you think my writing is good. Surprisingly it didn't help much in English classes… I once had a teacher who came up to me, holding an essay I'd written, and said 'You know, I've never **quite **seen **this** point of view on this before, it's very original…' Except I did really bad on that test so… mleh… a 'not-so-very' yay for non-conformists ;P. Anyway, I was thinking about your comment on writing diary entries… hmmm… it IS an interesting idea… but if only I'd actually FINISHED more than two days so far! XD I know! It's hard to believe, but not even a week has passed yet, story-wise… So adding journal entries at the end of a day would only happen once every 10 chapters, and adding them in between days wouldn't make much sense (I mean… how would they get to their journal?? Unless… Hmmm… I always WONDERED why Rei wore such a strange outfit! What DOES he hide under those tails:3) … But anyway! What I can try to do is add a little more information in a non-Kai point of view… I think that might help to convey their emotions and stuff… maybe? What do you think? (Oh, and yes! I used to have bangs like that! But since then I cut them so they fall in a straight line… And I actually still respond to reviews… just not usually in the chapter, I use a PM method, they were just getting too long! XP). At any rate, thank you very much for your review! I enjoyed it and I hope you liked this chapter!

**Can anyone guess what's going to happen next? It's something you'll never expect! I'll give you a hint: It's NOT in Kai's POV… Hmmmm… Anyway, for now, this is Adio!**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed: terracannon876, d1bontemp, lady KCassandra, wolf's lament, Kai's-lil-lover, phoenix-falling, BloodRedViolet, FlamingIce94, Raykou-kun, Canyx, bladz-liska, AngeLhearteD, '' kR!t#Y '' and ladyofwest!**


	20. Interlude 2: Blood Binds

**Interlude**

Oh. My. Goodness. 200 reviews!! (_squeal_) And more than 7000 hits! I can't believe it! You guys are all amazing!

Heh heh…. No… It's not Chapter 18… It's an interlude… BUT! It's a very IMPORTANT interlude…ehe he (_runs away_)

**Disclaimer:** Beyblade is the property of Takao Aoki.

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**NOTE! **If anyone knows a better way to say 'STOP!' in Russian than what I've written, please tell me! Thanks!

Oh and incase it wasn't clear, Konstantinov was the **SAME GUY** who announced Kai's presence to Mr. Dickenson in the board room; he also ran into Kai as he was leaving.

**PLEASE READ** the important note at the bottom of the chapter!

Enjoy!

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

_After the world championships in Russia, Kai just wanted to vanish. Then one day, inevitably, Kai is drawn back and ensnared in an intricate web of magic and legends; wrought by forsaken history and controlled by none other than Voltaire. _

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**Interlude: _Blood Binds_**

The security guard quickly turned his face away as the Hiwatari boy turned to glare at him. Stumbling back, he nearly hit the boy with the door, but just managed to escape without being recognized. Even still, as he exited the Pavilion, the man was cursing to himself.

'_You're such an idiot! Idiot! You KNEW he was going to be in there, and you still went in, now he knows…'_

He didn't know what he'd been thinking; he'd just seen the boy, and in a blind frenzy, rushed off to tell to the Chairman. He didn't stop to _think_. Of course Lord Hiwatari would be there! Now he was screwed.

_I have to get out of here…Blow this job, I'm calling Nushka, we'll take Marya and leave this damn place on the next train, no, I'll get them out now, then later I'll—'_

A sudden, violent force threw him off his feet and tossed him into the brick wall. He struggled within the grip that held him; he was a security guard dammit! No way he was going to let some cheap punk get the better of him.

"_KHVATITI!_" _ENOUGH!_

The security guard's eyes shot up and he froze.

'_Oh, shi—'_

"Well, well, if it isn't old Konstantinov, how've you been these past years?" The man didn't slacken his grip and Konstantinov remained dangling above the ground. None the less he attempted a light chuckle, trying to keep the strain out of his voice.

"Orlov!" He greeted, a little breathlessly, the grip was getting painful. "Long time no see? I here you got a new job at…"

"Balkov Abbey." Orlov sneered. "Yes, you heard right."

Konstantinov felt his stomach sink horribly, still the smile remained desperately plastered on his face. "That's great, we should have a coffee, catch up on old times…"

Orlov laughed. "I'm afraid that's not going to be possible."

"Oh? Why's that?" The smile was starting to hurt.

"Cause you're not gonna be alive that long." Suddenly the pressure on him increased and before he could do anything, Konstantinov was tossed to the side. "You've got some explaining to do Konstantinov."

Konstantinov quickly put his hands to the ground and was about to push himself up when he felt the cold tip of a gun barrel against his temple. He froze.

"And you're gonna do it now." Orlov's voice was as cold as the metal pressing into his skull.

The realization that his life was no longer in his own hands vanished all bravo, Konstantinov began to shake "Wh-what do y-you w-want to kn-now?"

"Tell me about the boy!" Orlov yelled, jabbing the gun into his head, "Tell me everything you know about the Hiwatari child, you were told to find him, what did you see?"

"Nothing!" Konstantinov shrank away. "I didn't see anything!"

"LIAR!" A boot struck out and hit him hard in the chest. Konstantinov cried out and fell to the side, again the boot flashed out and he was sure something broke. He hugged the wound, huddling into the cold wall of the alley.

"TELL ME WHAT YOU KNOW! WHERE IS THE BOY STAYING? HOW WAS HE ABLE TO HIDE FROM THE DIRECTOR AND LORD HIWATARI?"

"I'm telling you the TRUTH!" Konstantinov cried back. "I don't know ANYTHING! I JUST SAW HIM COME INTO THE STADIUM!"

BANG!

"AHH!" Konstantinov screamed and swore as his hands went from clutching his chest to clutching his punctured leg. "_DAMN YOU_! SHIT! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"

"Tell me what I want to know." Orlov answered back calmly, this time training the gun on the guard's head.

"Go. To. Hell." Konstantinov ground back.

Then Orlov smiled. He walked forward and crouched down in front of the downed man. Reaching out he patted him on the head, ignoring the other's flinch. "It's admirable, you know." He said sweetly. "What you're doing. I heard you were an Abbey guard once, years ago. I heard you were one of the trainers, trained the Hiwatari heir himself, in fact; when he was a child. You're protecting him. How nice." He looked over and jabbed his gun none too nicely into Konstantinov's wound. The man grunted.

"I heard you left the Abbey to be with your wife," Now he had Konstantinov's full attention. "Nushka, isn't that her name? And you have a baby girl, Marya. I wonder how they would like it at the Abbey—"

"DON'T YOU DARE!"

Orlov laughed again. "Oh come on, share a little Konstantinov! You know how it is at the Abbey, we never get new meat around there, and women never last long enough…"

"SHUT UP! DON'T TALK ABOUT THEM! DON'T TOUCH THEM! IF YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT LAYING A FINGER ON THEM I'LL—"

"You'll what?" Another jab, another grunt. "You, my friend can't do anything to stop me… Except…" Orlov rose and stared down at Konstantinov, who gazed stonily back. "Tell me everything you know about the boy."

The security guard was silent.

"Or I'll personally introduce your daughter to the lower level."

A hissing intake of breath, then a sigh.

"I…I know he came off a train." Konstantinov looked down, defeated.

"From where?" Orlov pressed.

"Izhevsk." Another moment of silence passed.

"That's it? That's all you know?"

"That's all," Konstantinov shrugged. "I saw him come off the train; he walked to the Pavilion and came in the doors."

"Liar!" Orlov shouted again and cocked the gun.

"I'M NOT! I'M NOT!" Konstantinov's hands came up to cover his head. "I TOLD YOU EVERYTHING I KNOW!"

"YOU LYING BASTARD! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, THEN I'LL RAPE YOUR DAUGHTER BEFORE KILLING HER INFRONT OF YOUR WIFE, THEN I'LL TAKE HER TOO!"

"NO! Please! Leave them alone!" Konstantinov was crying now, begging at Orlov's feet. Orlov kicked him away.

"Then tell me the truth!"

"H-he came early…" The security guard was broken, he lay shuddering, spilling everything he knew. "Th-the boy ran into a m-man, h-he sort of seized up—"

"WHO? THE BOY OR THE MAN?"

"The BOY! The boy! He seized up, then ran into an alley and collapsed."

"Collapsed…" Orlov sounded doubtful.

"Yes." Konstantinov gasped on the ground. "Yes."

"Why?"

The guard's eyes closed. He could not lie. "He seemed to be having some sort of… memory relapse."

Orlov waited for a moment, then lowered the gun and smirked. "Very good, Konstantinov, this time I actually believe you. You just bought your wife and child's lives."

Konstantinov sighed with relief.

Orlov turned, and made to walk away.

"Oh and Konstantinov?"

"What?"

BANG!

"Never try to play both sides."

Orlov stepped towards the body and kicked it, rolling it over. Bending, he patted the security guard down until he was satisfied. He stood up and fired off another shot into the body's head just to make sure.

He pulled out his phone then and snapped it open, dialing something.

"Yes? Police? There's a body in the alley near 54th street, it needs to be cleaned up." He paused. "I trust this will be the last I hear of this?... Very good." He closed the phone, then open it again.

"Yes, Director Boris? The man says the boy came from Izhevsk…"

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**_End Interlude_…**

**… _To Be Continued_**

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**VERY, VERY, VERY IMPORTANT NOTE!! PLEASE READ EVERYONE!!**

Ok… Now I know that you're all probably ready to kill me after not putting Kai in this chapter… BUT! Before you do, I need to ask you all a _**very**_ important question concerning a future story idea. I wasn't to know what all of you think about me doing a NEW story, which would be a **BEYBLADExNARUTO** crossover. (Which would not effect the progress of Sooryavansham in any way). NOW! I have some stipulations: One, it will NOT be yaoi. Second, it will probably focus on Kai and Sasuke. Now, that aside, I NEED to know what YOU think about me doing this. I can promise you that the future of this idea is COMPLETELY dependent on YOUR response, mainly because it is a random idea that I just had from watching one random Naruto episode one random day. I haven't thought enough about the story to be sure about it, but I've written s bit of it; I'm considering it, and the responses I get WILL directly influence my decision. I need to know if you want this story, I also want to know what you'd like to see, who should interact with whom (Kakashi-Kai? Orochimaru-Kai? Voltaire-Sasuke?), any plot ideas you have and ANYTHING else you'd like! Please! I really need feedback on this one, so EVERYONE (yes, _YOU _too!) needs to tell me what they think! Remember, I'll know exactly how many people have read this chapter from the hits I get! So write!...Please?

OH! AND!! Just to incite all of you further… The response I get for this chapter WILL motivate me to finish the next one sooner! It COULD potentially be out in as little as _**one week**_! (Ohh.. coercion, I told myself I'd never use it… but I couldn't resist! XD)

**END VERY,VERY,VERY IMPORTANT NOTE!! YOU CAN GO BACK TO MURDERING THE AUTHOR NOW!!**

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**fawks136: **Hiya! Glad you liked the chappie and as for the twist… hm, I guess you could say this chapter had one, but I've definitely got many more planned! Oh and **Sooryavansham **is a Hindustani word (that does, in fact, mean 'The Dynasty of the Sun') and is pronounced '**Soo**-riuh-vuhn-shum'. I made up the sounds on my own, since I've never seen the word written, phonetically, down anywhere. All the 'h's after the u's are just to say that the 'a's in the word should be said like the word 'uh' instead 'ay'… Did I confuse you yet? XD. Anyway, if you still can't really figure how it would sound then just tell me and I'll be happy to figure out the proper phonetics XP

**Canyx:** Yup! That line "To think I once loved you" is actually from the show. It's one of the more popular lines to quote… and, invariably, twist in fanfiction. It's just too tempting XP! I think the exact time Kai thinks that is after he switched back to the Bladebreakers and they were entering the tournament building when Voltaire appeared in the balcony above them. Tyson made some comment but Kai and Voltaire just stared at each other… Do you remember that? Anyway, Tala and Kai… hmmm… There will definitely be some interesting stuff going on there! After all, Kai's forgotten all about Tala… But Tala doesn't know that ;P I wonder how they're work THAT out? Hey, don't look at me! I have no idea! C:

''** kR!t#Y **''Heh, yeah, FF .net likes that name a little better ;P. And yeah you're right about different points of view giving different perspectives on the story (just wait 'till the next chapter XD). And yeah, my English teacher that year was mean… D: But you know, as for the security guards being stupid… Well, the only ones I've actually met in real life are the security people at customs (and they just hate the world in general… I think I made a joke once about the 'full-body pat down' thing—as, of course I got chosen RANDOMLY coughNOTcough for it—and yeah… no… never joke with those guys ;P) and those London Bobby's (… yeah… who really knows what goes on in THEIR heads… XP). But over all, they could very well be intelligent, sophisticated people… Aw… But it's so much more FUN to go with the stereotype C: Thanks, though for your comments on the chapter! The quote "To think I once loved you" was from the anime, but I'm glad you liked all the others! AND! You read my profile! (hug) That's amazing! Thanks! Those fun facts are totally true! (even the one about people eating bugs… (shudder) did you know they eat scorpions too?...ugh!). Oh and yeah, I know what you mean about the walking into doors thing… I can't even say in was a see-through glass door… no it was wood… and hard… and I smacked straight into it… People laughed. Loudly. I proceeded to smack them. Hard XD (they were friends though, I didn't go around smacking strangers! oO')

**banan: **O.O

…(_Thud_)

(_Author has fainted and subsequently ended up sprawled ungainly across the floor)_

…

_(Unidentified background person (you know, one of those faceless people who laugh to those bad jokes on sitcoms?) walks up and picks a piece of paper off the ground)_

_Reads:_ 'Sholay was so amazed by your wonderful, long review that she couldn't handle the shock and passed out before writing a proper response. She promises though that she will, with greatest certainty, respond fully to this review once she has pulled herself together.)

_Background person looks up:_ Well then, this sounds a little sketchy. I don't know if you should trust this Sholay person, she sounds a little flaky to me…

_Me:_ HEY!

_Background person:_ Aren't you supposed to be unconscious?

_Me:_ Oh… yeah… eh heh… Hey, banan! Thank you so, so much for the review! That was certainly not just the longest review I've received, but the longest review I've ever SEEN. AND!! You even commented on my drawings!! (Hug) Thanks! So! You asked some really good questions in your review which are taking me a little while to respond to (_sheepish grin_). But never fear! This isn't the real response, this is just a hold, I'll write, and send, you the real response as soon as I can! Promise!

_Background person:_ See? What did I tell you, F-L-A-K-Y

_Me: _Oh go fade into obscurity (_Throws pointy boot at Background person, who disappears in a puff of smoke)._ Anyway, I hope you're not too upset by this; I'll make my response super long to make up for it! C: I hope you still enjoyed the interlude though, and I know you told me not to start any new stories, but I've got a little bit of this one (BeybladexNaruto) already written. And I promise it won't interfere with my other writing! Please tell me what you think about it!

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Your comments always drive me to improve my writing: Nameless Little Girl, Raykou-Kun, lady KCassandra, fawks136, Miako6, d1bontemp, FlamingIce94, Kais-lil-lover, ladyofwest, BloodRedViolet, Canyx, bladz-liska, "kR!t#Y", banan, phoenix-falling, Okamikai, banan (again! ;P) and Samu! **

**Adio! And Happy Leap Day (I updated on Leap day! That's so funny XD)**


	21. Bow to Pride

**Chapter 18!**

Yay! Thanks to everyone who responded! So, like I promised, here's your update! Now let's see how everyone reacts, shall we?

**Disclaimer:** Hn. (turns and walks away, scarf ends flying)

…

Hey, pretty good impression huh? XD

(for those of you who didn't get me Kai-speak, Beyblade is the property of Takao Aoki, I don't own it)

PG-13 for some language, but it's funny how Johnny isn't as vulgar as Kai, innit? XD

**Special Thanks **to **Caliany** who told me how to say 'Stop' and 'Enough' in Russian (I changed it to 'Khvatiti' after ;P)

**Special Thanks** also, to **banan** who kindly told me how to properly spell 'daijoubu desu ka?' (Thankies :3)

**"¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤"** denotes a change in perspective

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

_After the world championships in Russia, Kai just wanted to vanish. Then one day, inevitably, Kai is drawn back and ensnared in an intricate web of magic and legends; wrought by forsaken history and controlled by none other than Voltaire. _

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'**;**.**;**'

"_Everybody lies, but it doesn't matter because no one listens"_

—Nick Diamos

'**;**.**;**'

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**Chapter 18: _Bow to Pride _**

Johnny seriously could not _BELIEVE_ the gall of that Hiwatari. Honestly, the guy's been missing for a year (or so he'd heard) and now he just pops up out of nowhere and waltzed into an important meeting '_Like he's the freakin' king of the world.'_

Johnny looked over to watch as Hiwatari glided into the boardroom, scarf ends trailing, and an insufferably bored look in his slanted eyes. '_And even now, he's still acting like he's so bleedin' superior. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if he was, like, some mass murderer or somethin'. Got caught on a job the day he was supposed t' take the plane. Then 'e spent all his money payin' some rich lawyer to bail him out of jail and couldn't pay for a ticket…'_

Johnny scowled.

'…_I REALLY hate that guy.' _

None the less, even Johnny had to admit that Hiwatari could make a damn good appearance. He'd somehow managed to time it so that everyone had just taken their seats, but had not started the meeting yet. Then he'd come, opening the door purposefully and striding into the room with long steps. It didn't escape Johnny's attention that Hiwatari seemed to be like some artificial windmaker, generating his own wind behind him which picked up the ends of his scarf. Out of the corner of his eye Johnny saw that girl, the new one who'd come with the Bladebreakers literally swoon, her eyes all bright and wide. Johnny wrinkled his nose in disgust—NO, he was NOT jealous! Hiwatari had nothing on him!

Johnny threw his eyes away from Hiwatari in a wide eye roll, scanning the stained wooden walls of the boardroom, over the various expensive paintings and finally falling on the other people in the room. Johnny's interest was immediately tweaked. He could deal with Hiwatari later (there would be plenty of time for that later, when he got that rematch), right now the reactions of the people around him were priceless.

His team and most of the others didn't react all that much—why would they react over Hiwatari, of all people?—But the _Bladebreakers_…

'_And I coulda sworn I heard a choking noise from those Demo idiots.' _But when he'd looked over they were as cold and stuck-up as ever. '_Although Voltaire has this freaky nasty look on his face, and Boris' look is just plain creepy.'_ Johnny raised an eyebrow and then shuddered at the evil smirk Boris was wearing.

Looking over to the other side of the room, Johnny eyed the Bladebreakers, who—minus the girl—had all jumped to their feet when Hiwatari had entered. Max had jumped up so fast the blood rush had nearly knocked him to the floor again. Tyson on the other hand HAD stood up too quickly and HAD fallen over. This had been funny, so Johnny had laughed; loudly.

And earned himself a jab in the ribs from Enrique.

Which, of course, he gladly returned. With force.

'_Stupid Italians, think they can just do whatever they want.'_ Johnny smirked at Enrique, who was now nursing a bruised side.

The redhead then looked back. Rei and Kenny were slower to get up, but still, Rei looked kinda dazed, like someone had whacked him over the head with a two by four, and Kenny…

'_Well, I dun know what Kenny was thinkin' with those huge, stupid glasses covering half his damn face_.'

Anyway, back to Hiwatari… Oh yeah, he walked into the room, cooler than a cucumber, when suddenly he stopped. Johnny didn't think it could have been for more than a few seconds, but no one could have missed the sudden burst of tension in the room.

'_Even Enrique's head was knocked off cloud nine long enough for him to notice… heh that sounded pretty smart dunnit?'_

Hiwatari had turned to look at something or the other behind Johnny, He was staring so obviously, Johnny himself had to see what had made his nemesis so angry, and when he himself turned he saw Voltaire staring, no, _glaring_ back.

'_Smoke and blood… huh… coulda sworn I saw some lightning flashes there too.'_ Johnny had thought, referring to both pairs of eyes as they locked in mortal combat.

But then the moment was over and Hiwatari—the younger one—turned away.

Just then Tyson, Max, Rei and Kenny lost all self control they had—'_Not like that was much'_—and launched themselves at Hiwatari. Rei, Max and Kenny managed to stop themselves just short of sending Hiwatari into the wall, but Tyson kept going. And Hiwatari, just as calm as anything, stepped to the side and let Tyson launch himself at thin air… and fall flat on his face.

Johnny allowed himself another snigger here. Yes, technically it _was_ Hiwatari, but Johnny could appreciate good humor, even from him.

"Hey!" Granger called, upset.

"Kai! You're here!" Max sounded happy.

"Where have you been?" Rei asked and soon all 4 of them were crowding around Hiwatari, throwing questions left and right. Hiwatari himself looked like he's just swallowed a lemon and was probably three seconds away from exploding when Tyson's Grampa interrupted:

"HOMIES! Stop crowding the ol' chap!"

"Yes, boys," Now Max's Da stepped forward. He pulled the guys back. "There'll be plenty of time for that later. Let's give Kai a chance to explain himself; we can see what happens after that."

They moved back to the wall, slowly, pouting, but Hiwatari stayed where he was. He hadn't said anything yet. Odd. But then he started to head towards the table… and it was at that moment when Johnny noticed the empty chair.

The chair for the Bladebreakers' manager.

'_No way…'_

Hiwatari wasn't wasting any time as he made a beeline straight for the chair.

'_No FREAKING way…'_

"I trust," He drawled in that smarmy, snotty voice of his. "From the procedure, that this—" and he laid his hand un_believably_ slowly down on the heavy oak chair.

"Oh hurry up already." Johnny growled, and earned another jab, which he didn't bother to return, he was too preoccupied…

'_No FREAKING WAY IS HIWATARI THEIR MANAGER.'_

"—is my chair." And the bastard looked around with this self-satisfied smirk and half closed eyes.

And Mr. Dickenson nodded!

Johnny couldn't believe his eyes.

'_Damn, I REALLY hate that guy.'_

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There is something to be gained from acting insufferable. By diverting people's attention, throwing arrogance and insolence in their faces to blind and incense them, they become impulsive and predictably pliable. Even now, as I stand before them all, purposefully drawing out my words, making each action slow and deliberate, I see the irritation rising in their eyes, concern waning in face of base human nature.

It does, of course, help that I am unequivocally insufferable by nature.

I cast my eyes around the room, the previous encounter with my Grandfather banished from my mind—I cannot afford to be woolgathering at this time—and allow my eyelids to fall half way, observing them without being explicit. Voltaire looks murderous, not unexpectedly, and my eyes skate over Boris. Out of all the Demolition Boys, only Tala looks different, strangely as though he has swallowed a lemon. My eyes linger on him for a moment longer than I intend, but then move on.

Rei, Tyson … Max and Kenny… Completely unexpected was the rush I felt as I laid eyes on them for the first time in a year. '_Weakness'_ is how my mind answers and I let all feeling fall away, '_for another time'._ I observe them: when I had walked in the door they had very nearly tackled me and bombard me with all sorts of accusations and questions. But as I watch now, my appearance perhaps, or maybe the calmness in my voice, seems to placate them. They are already backing off and seating themselves.

Mr. Dickenson has not even risen, though his eyes betray his desire for answers. But again, as I sent a smirk around the room he relaxes and leans back, content with putting his suspicion on hold. Honestly, the old man has waited five years; he obviously has no qualms with prorogation.

I hold no concern that Voltaire or Boris would dare confront me here in front of everyone. No, they would prefer to grab me and shake me down behind closed doors. But I will deal with that when it comes.

And that is all. Tyson, Rei, Max, Kenny… Mr. Dickenson, Voltaire, Boris and Tala. They are the only ones who showed significant response as I entered the room.

'_No, wait.'_

My eyes fall on one other.

'_Now, this is amusing.'_

Johnny has the most interesting look on his face. Something between gross repugnance and crippling gork is twisting his already distasteful features into something quite… different.

'_And is he wearing a __**kilt**__?'_

It is quite affecting, few people can wear a kilt and still maintain an air of respectability… and it he is most certainly _not _one of those people.

I notice his bizarre expression darken with prolonged exposure to my gaze and I shift my gaze elsewhere. Deciding I have waited long enough, the lack of response to my query not unnoticed—they must be in shock; oh well, it matters not, it is about time my former team realizes who has been doing the bills anyway—I pull the chair out and slide in, placing a hand on the armrest in preparation to lower myself into the chair—

"Wait a moment, Mr. Hiwatari." I pause, just hearing the name halts me. For a year no one has called me that, and even with everything that's happened today, hearing it now out of Mr. Dickenson's mouth is enough to stop me long enough for it to register. I straighten, pushing my shoulders back just enough to let him know I am listening.

"Perhaps, before you settle down, we could have a short explanation—."

Surprisingly it is not I who has to say otherwise.

"Chairman Dickenson," Says a man standing to my left, I glance over; he looks vaguely familiar. "I believe this meeting was intended as a time to discuss urgent matters, perhaps we can exchange personal views during the lunch break." I give the man an appraising look. Very clever, he just managed to interpose himself in a personal conversation, tell Mr. Dickenson to shut up, and back away all without directly insulting anyone. I see him glance back in the general direction of Tyson and Max and suddenly his familiarity clicks.

'_Ah yes, the divorced, single parent and full-time chef, part time author: Mister Alexander Tate, formerly Kenji Mizuhara. Adult accompaniment, perhaps?'_

I see Mr. Dickenson concede and give a mental nod, moving to seat myself once more.

"Hold it boy." This time I literally freeze, and it has nothing to do with confusion. I know exactly who is speaking. I raise myself to my full height.

"Grandfather." The familiar word twists on my tongue like a leech. I notice movement at my side and feel tension rising from many people around me… The Bladebreakers, Mr. Dickenson, Mr. Granger and even Mr. Tate. It makes no sense why they would be affected, but I put that aside for now.

"I have been deprived of my Grandson's presence for months now and when, finally, you appear before me you would ignore your own Grandfather? I was sure I raised you to have better conduct than that. It does not do to forget oneself, boy."

'_Hypocrite.'_ I point out calmly in my mind, very well used to his manner. I suppose learning to hold one's tongue is like learning to ride a bike: never forgotten after that first fall which broke your wrist. Behind me I hear less then prudent mutterings. In specific, I hear Tyson's crude imitation.

"'_It doesn't do to forget oneself'_" He mutters in a nasally voice, obviously imitating Voltaire's clipped English. "What's _**that **_supposed to mean?"

'_Much more than it should.'_ One part of my mind replies, while the other is presenting me with a choice.

As I see it, I could do any one of two things at this moment. Choice number one would entail telling everyone how my Grandfather none too kindly threw me out and left me without so much as two kopeks to rub together and make a fire. I could tell them how Balkov Abbey is really a training center designed to create a generation of heartless bladers bred to follow my Grandfather's desires. But that would cause an inordinately large disturbance, and would be a horribly unwise decision to make in the heart of Russia, a country that bleeds and breathes with Voltaire's money. The issue would be covered up and quickly squashed. I would be left in the custody of a vengeful man; Tala and the others left at the mercy of Boris. No, definitely not a smart choice.

The answer is simple; I must take option number two.

I move the seat further back; take a step away from the table…

'_Empty'_

And bow.

"I apologize for my rudeness, _Grandfather_. Allow me to make amends for my lapse." I circle the table and stand before my Grandfather. Perhaps to everyone else it seems a bit fulsome, but this is necessary, I need to give an indisputable reason for my absence now, before rumors of the truth can fly.

Besides, no one else may have noticed it, but I—and Voltaire too, from the narrow glint in his eye—definitely did not miss my failure to add a 'please' in that statement. "I bid you a Good Morning and hope that time has treated you well these past few months I have spent with Grandmother."

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**_End Chapter Eighteen_…**

**… _To Be Continued_**

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Hm. I suppose the question now is: will they call his bluff? I know, the chapters are shorter than normal, I'm sorry, but I'm swamped with midterms and finals coming up, so this is the best I can do for now; I'll try to get the length back up after all my tests are done!

**''kR!t#Y'': **Hiya! Thanks for writing your review twice! I know, very well, how annoying it can be to have to re-write stuff I've already done (you wouldn't BELIEVE how many times my computer has run out of battery and I had to re-write half a chapter 'cause I forgot to save it before!) so, yeah, I totally understand ;p. And you know, a lot of Russian names do end with 'ov (actually, especially middle names, since they take the name of the father and add –ov or –ovna depending on the gender), but not all of them do… just the ones I like XD I didn't even realize both Konstantinov and Orlov ended with –ov until you said that :3 And as for saying 'stop' in Russian, well… that's what my dictionary said, but what you said about them running away before you finished telling them to stop… That's EXACTLY what I thought XDD. But I did end up changing it to 'Khvatiti' which means 'enough'… it's a little shorter, right o.O? Anyway, thanks for giving me your opinion on the Naruto crossover (ha, ha, Voltaire and Sasuke, now that IS interesting! Hmmm! But don't worry, Kai will ALWAYS be my favorite character!) And I'm glad you thought Orlov was evil, I was trying to portray a heartless subordinate (I was trying to show the kind of terror Stalin must have when he threatened people into admitting to things they didn't do during the purges… I was actually comparing Voltaire to Stalin) so I'm happy you thought that came across! Hope you liked the chapter!

**banan:** Hiya again! I hope you got the response I sent, if not then please tell me and I'll fish it out and send it again! Oh, and when Kai left the Abbey, the anime claims that he lost his memory in the explosion caused by Black Dranzer, and somehow he ended up in Japan with Voltaire after that. In my fic, Kai set the Abbey on fire, and something (still unknown!) caused him to loose his memory, after which he somehow crossed Russia, stowed away on a cargo ship and ended up in Japan where he somehow ended up living with Votlaire (yeah, I don't know how he did it either!). So, you want Orochimaru-Kai interaction? XD That's actually one of the ones I'm excited about too! I'm not sure exactly HOW I'll manage it, but I'm sure I'll be able to do something. Oh and I can picture EXACLTY the glare Sasuke and Kai would give each other XD I've actually drawn this pic of the two of them, but haven't posted it on DeviantArt yet (I did it only recently and I'm still working my way up the years ;P). I don't read the manga, but I know most of what happened, the funny thing is I'm not even really crazy about it, I just thought writing Sasuke meeting Kai would be too great an opportunity to pass up XD. Oh and I'm sorry! I never meant to make you seem evil! You're not! You're amazing! And I love your reviews! I'm glad you liked the interlude and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

**Canyx:** Heya! Yeah, I know what you mean about this fic getting confusing, even for me, I have to keep going back to check some facts to make sure I keep the story consistent. Although, just to make it easier (so you don't have to sift through some odd 100,000 words XP) Konstantinov was only mentioned once in chapter 17, when he came into the boardroom to tell Mr. Dickenson that Kai had arrived. Orlov was new, this interlude was the first time he was mentioned. That only other characters I've created are the Huo family, who are illegal Chinese emigrants living in Izhevsk and Voran, the mole person living in abandoned Russian subway tunnels (wow, I never realized how weird my made up characters were until I wrote that down! ;p). Anyway, thanks for the review and I appreciate you commenting on my story idea, even if you've never seen/read Naruto C: Actually, I only saw it for the first time a few months ago, so I don't know very much about it either, just that this one character Sasuke, struck me as dark and moody and I thought it would be fun if he and Kai met XD. So yeah… did you look at the comment after? What did you think :3 Hope you liked the chapter!

**Many, many thanks to those who reviewed! I think that was the most reviews I've ever received for a chapter! To: Cailany, ladyofwest, Samu, Raykou-kun, wolf's lament, fawks136, AngeLhearteD, phoenix-falling, ''kR!t#Y'', BloodRedViolet, FlamingIce94, banan, Canyx, d1bontemp, Kais-lil-lover, Kais-lil-lover (again! XD), lady KCassandra, bladz-liska, Okamikai and kavbj!**

**Adio!**


	22. Silver Tongues

**Chapter 19**.

Hello! Now, I'm sorry guys but I'm not going to be able to update again for awhile. My exams start on the 8th of April and go to the 16th, so from now until then I will be spending all my time studying. The next update will be after that. To make up for it I managed to make this chapter pretty long, so I hope you enjoy!

Thanks again to **Cailany** who continues to help me with my pitiful Russian :)

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**KEY: **

— **_I_I** …_(italics)… __**I**_**I -- **denotes a change in language

— **_I_I** …_**(bold)…**_ _**I**_**I -- **denotes a second change in language

— **¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤ -- **denotes a change in point of view

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Enjoy!

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

_After the world championships in Russia, Kai just wanted to vanish. Then one day, inevitably, Kai is drawn back and ensnared in an intricate web of magic and legends; wrought by forsaken history and controlled by none other than Voltaire. _

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"_The tongue like a sharp knife...Kills without drawing blood."_

— Chinese Proverb

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**Chapter 19:** **_Silver Tongues_**

I hear a few gasps behind me and suppress a smirk. What, was everyone so enamored by the dramatic: 'abandoned by all and left to rot on the streets' story they had not considered the possibility that I was staying with a relative; that forsooth, Grandmother's death certificate does not exist? Or maybe they are all just in shock that I can actually speak full sentences without choking or biting a head off. My main focus is on Grandfather though, and I am satisfied to see his eyes turn to slits. Very good.

"You've been staying with your Grandmother for the past year?" Mr. Dickenson's incredulous voice cuts through our confrontation, though my eyes remain fixed on Voltaire. I do not bother answering. I know he is going to say more. And sure enough…

"Where does she live? Why didn't you inform us that your living arrangements had changed? Why did you remain out of contact for the entire year?"

I stay silent. Frowns crease the faces of those around me. I wonder idly: do they consider my silence insolence, or indifference?

"_Mr. Hiwatari_." Mr. Dickenson puffs out of his moustache. "I would appreciate it if you'd answer my questions. As a registered member of the BBA you are under the authority of—"

"I believe." My eyes focus sharply as Voltaire speaks. "What _my _Grandson cannot find the words to say," I bristle "is that you are imposing on a private conversation, Stanley." More angry muttering and disapprobatory stares go around, especially since the comment was directed at the Chairman himself. I am disaffected. I never liked Dickenson anyway.

"However…" My eyes narrow at the sudden sly tone Voltaire's voice takes. "His tardiness has shown me that he has not the appropriate respect for the board. Perhaps an apology to the room would be prudent." The statement was level, from Voltaire it would never have been a question.

Anger rises like a hot flame within me. He thinks he can insult me, dishonor me, that easily? I am not so quickly swayed by emotion. Not anymore. And I have not forgotten his lessons: a Hiwatari never apologizes.

A triumphant smirk curls on Voltaire's withered face. I can rectify that.

"Grandmother sends her regards." I state low and evenly, ignoring his demand, and watch as the smirk falls into an ugly look. I am pushing him, I know. But there is an odd thrill in it. I could never have done this when I was younger.

"She begs me inform you of the new doormat she has bought, and that should you be tracking mud into her house again it will result in sever consequences courtesy of her best pan."

Sniggers float through the room. The image of Great and Almighty Voltaire Hiwatari being scolded by his wife is debasing enough to amuse everyone.

But I keep watching as Voltaire's expression goes positively arctic. In his lap I see his fingers clench and twitch with the repressed urge to lash out.

The thing is, the subject of Grandmother is one of the few things that are strictly forbidden in the Hiwatari household. Like an anathema, it must be avoided at all costs—infraction upon this rule is punishable. This lesson had been learnt at the age of eleven, the crime being an innocent passing comment I can no longer remember and the punishment being largely unpleasant.

I was ten when Grandmother had passed away. She had been calmly making dinner, as was typical, when she had suddenly collapsed. I was the only other one home—the servants having retired for the day—but had been in my room studying. At that time I had believed that by studying everyday and earning not only top marks, but straight hundreds in all my courses…by being perfect at everything and flawless in my duty as a Grandson, I could finally make Grandfather proud of me. Grandmother's concern had not been enough to sustain my thirst for affection.

I was very naïve.

The mansion's size then was such that I never heard her fall; by the time I had ventured downstairs—wondering after my belated dinner—found her lying there, overcome my shock, and called the emergency number, Grandmother had died. I never did find out the cause.

Needless to say, Grandfather was never a forgiving person.

I can see that now as I look into his eyes and they scream retribution, the mere mention of her sending him into a spitting rage.

There is more to the story though. Once upon a time, Grandfather really did forget to clean his shoes, and the doormat was so old it failed to soak up much of anything. I remember this because I, in the absence of the maid, used to spend a good ten or twenty minutes scrubbing the floors after him on many an occasion. Grandmother would say, over and over, how she had to get a new mat, and she would lecture Grandfather time and again about tracking mud into the house. Once she actually did threaten him with her frying pan.

Just the mention of this small, common, daily event probably brought back enough pain and anger to drive him over the edge.

I can only hope.

Keeping eye contact, I dip my head slightly, my eyes mocking him. I remain still, watching him, waiting for the word to leave, as is proper.

I watch his hands clench and unclench in his lap.

I wait.

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"That boy is playing with fire."

Mr. Tate turned to the man standing beside him. "What do you mean, Mr. Granger?"

Tyson's Grandfather narrowed his eyes in an uncharacteristic show of seriousness. "Can't you see it? That man has bloodlust in his eyes, the likes of which I've only ever seen in the eyes of starved wolves. That Kai boy is taking a big risk, pushing his old man's buttons."

Alex Tate looked back at the strange exchange between the mysterious boy and his derisive grandfather. Both faces were blank as a chalkboard rubbed clean, completely emotionless. He wondered what on Earth Granger was talking about. "I don't understand." He said. "I can't see anything."

The elderly man smiled mildly and said "A man cannot shoot a bird if he sees the tree, and the sun, and the clouds, and the grass and the ground. You must focus! It's all in the eyes, m'boy. Can you see the rage in Hiwatari's colorless eyes? He wants to hurt that boy, I can tell."

Mr. Tate looked at the other in surprise. "That's a very serious accusation. How can you tell?"

"If a man is to shoot a bird, he must see only the eye he is to shoot. Nothing else! Not its body, not the tree. Only the eye!"

"I don't see how this situation here refers at all to your hunting tips, Mr. Ganger." Mr. Tate gave Ryu an exasperated look.

Mr. Granger only chuckled.

"I've studied martial arts for many years: part of the training is to be able to read your opponent." Mr. Granger's voice was slow and steady, assured. "The only place you can really see anything is in the eyes, everything else can be muted by excessive muscle control, but no one can completely mask their eyes. I can see it. And right now the amount of anger I'm seeing in that man's eyes is astounding. Focus yourself, look at the eyes and only the eyes; block out everything else until that's all you can see."

Alex looked back at Kai and Voltaire with new insight. It took him a few moments of squinting and adjusting his eyes. It was harder than he'd thought to block out all the distracting surroundings and focus just on Voltaire's eyes. But finally, he did see it: Rage, anger, hatred in the older man's eyes. It made no sense; Kai had done nothing to warrant such a response. In fact nothing in Mr. Tate's mind could warrant such a response from your own relative. Dislike for the man turned into disgust. "By God man, that boy's his own Grandson!"

Mr. Granger shook his head. "That doesn't make a difference to these kinds of people. All that matters are their own selfish wants and desires and right now he wants to put that boy back in his place; look, see the way his fingers tremble with rage?"

Alex tilted his head and rose up a little in his seat. That was when he noticed Voltaire's thin, spindly hands clenching and jerking in his lap. "I see…"

They both watched as Kai calmly scorned his Grandfather, titling his head in a way that signified anything but respect. Max's father was shocked. "What is he doing?" He hissed to the older man. "Doesn't he know his Grandfather's intentions?"

"Oh, he knows alright," Came the low answer. "Probably better than us, in fact. He himself is a master at this. Notice, you can see now Voltaire's anger, can you not? But can you see any fear—or better, can you see anything at all in the boy's eyes?"

Alex looked.

Kai's face was like a mask set in white marble, and his eyes might as well have been gemstones for all the emotion they showed. Cold, hard… empty.

"No…" A realization came to the young chef then. "You don't think he _wants_ his Grandfather to strike him?"

"It is possible."

Alex's eyebrows went up. The boy was crazy, but he couldn't deny the budding intrigue he was beginning to feel. He had heard many things about Kai Hiwatari: how he had been a gang leader, how he stole, how he was power hungry, how he disappeared at all odd hours without any consideration for others. He had heard how he'd always been there for his team, how he had earned their respect and how had saved his son's life. The youth was inconsistent at best, psychologically unsettled at worst.

All this had been told to him and existed somewhere in the abstract. Alex still couldn't quite wrap his head around the fact that Max had almost been crushed by a glass door. That he'd been saved by _this _boy?!

But now he was able to assess for himself what this Kai was all about. And it was bizarrely interesting. Here he was, a child of fifteen or sixteen, bravely standing up to a man that greatly unsettled _him_, a man twenty years his senior. Maybe it was his writer instincts acting up but he wanted to find out more about this boy.

"If that monster attacks that young man, no fancy lawyer in an Armani suit will be able to keep his sorry backside out of prison." Mr. Granger said, his lip turning downward at the corner in irony.

"Then what you're saying… is that you're _hoping_ he'll lash out?" Mr. Tate was appalled.

The older man shook his head. "I would never wish injury on anyone. _However,_" he stressed the word with a pointed look at Alex. "I have a great deal of respect for that young man and I respect his decision. What will happen, will happen."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Mr. Tate noticed that Mr. Granger's language abilities had drastically increased during their conversation, but most of his attention was on Kai.

He realized now, that though Kai had bowed before, he had never prostrated in front of Voltaire. His spine had curved, but his head had stayed high and proud as he stared his Grandfather full in the eyes. He hadn't bowed, not truly, and his gesture now: waiting for Voltaire's acknowledgement, was a mockery of Voltaire's coveted gentility. Voltaire, for his part, was staring back with a fearsome, imperious look on his face.

"Hmm."

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"What the heck does he think he's _doing?!_"

"Tyson, shh!"

"Don't you 'shh' me, Rei! Look at him! Look! He's acting like nothing happened! Ignoring us, pretending he's the king of the world. And what was that bow?! And what's this about a Grandmother?! He thinks he can just throw this on us all of a sudden and we'll say 'Oh! Ok Kai, you've been missing for a year, but it's all ok now that you've told us you were staying with this Grandmother… Who we've never hear of before!' " Tyson was incensed.

Rei ran an elongated canine over his bottom lip in agitation "Yes, I know. And he's probably lying, But, Tyson, we can't talk about this now."

Tyson, Max, Rei and Kenny were huddled together on their side of the room, exchanging views in heated whispers. Hilary meanwhile, was being squished between the boys as they leaned in on both sides of her. Tyson in particular was making a nuisance of himself as he leaned over her to talk to his friends. She craned her neck, trying to glimpse again this proud, stoic newcomer, she had become suddenly fascinated by, but Tyson's large head blocked the way. Hilary growled low in her throat but was largely ignored by the navy-haired boy.

"Then when?! I say we go up there and knock some sense into his thick skull. THEN we'll get the truth outta 'im!" Tyson cried rashly and put his palm on the carpeted floor, preparing to shove himself to his feet.

"_No!_ Tyson!" Rei's hand shot out in a flash and grabbed Tyson by the sleeve of his jacket, yanking him back down to the ground. Tyson lost his balance and fell sideways and Hilary let out a startled yelp as he landed squarely on her lap.

"Get _off_ me!" She shrieked in a strangled whisper, shoving Tyson roughly in the side. He rolled off her onto the red carpet and scrambled away on his hands, red-faced and apologizing rapidly.

Kenny meanwhile was watching the interaction between Kai and Voltaire shrewdly. "You know, Rei, he might be telling the truth…" he sad quietly.

"About his Grandmother?" Rei whispered back incredulously. "You're kidding, right? I mean, don't you think it's a bit convenient? We haven't heard about this so called Grandmother _once_ during the entire time we were traveling with the guy and all of a sudden she shows up out of the blue like this? Just when he needs an alibi?"

Kenny was quiet.

"I don't know, Rei…" Max's soft disagreement had Kenny staring at the blond in disbelief, was Max actually backing him up? "What Kai said, about his Grandma not wanting his Grandfather to be late… It sounded very real… It just…" Max seemed unable to find the words he needed. "It seemed like such a small thing…such a _strange_ thing to lie about… I think… I think he might have been telling the truth…?" But Max's voice was uncertain, and his voice rose as though it were a question.

"The number of times we've heard Kai talk about himself can be counted on one hand, Max. We don't know him well enough to judge if what he says is the truth or a lie." Rei's voice was dark, bitter.

"Rei, that's not true." Max looked at the Chinese boy with wide eyes and in that moment, Rei noticed how young Max looked. "You can tell if someone's lying or not. You _can_… Good people don't just lie like that, without feeling anything, or showing anything, they don't…" Rei watched as Max's voice trailed off and his eyes lowered. He had a feeling younger boy wasn't talking about Kai anymore, he wondered though, what was making his friend so sad. Innately, Rei realized it was something personal that was bothering Max, so, feeling it was not his place, Rei said nothing more. Golden irises shifted instead to pierce Kai's lean frame with their intensity. Rei's mouth tightened in to a thin line.

With Rei's eyes diverted, he didn't see Max's gaze rise to regard his mother's profile silently. Judy though, her attention fully on the papers in front of her, remained oblivious to Max's intense stare.

* * *

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* * *

Tala could hear, though he had no desire to, the low mutterings of the American team behind him.

"Think they're something, don't they?"

"So he's the manager of the Bladebreakers, who cares?"

"Why don't they just take this somewhere else? No one cares about their little melodrama."

No one _saw,_ no one _understood_, as Tala did, the subtle insinuations, the hidden hatred buried beneath those fancy words. Poisoned tongues clashed as owners wielded them like blades. It was a battle of aristocrats at the highest level, like a game of chess where two superpowers battled with their minds, carelessly sacrificing their pawns if it meant capturing the other's king.

Tala's mind went back to a time when two boys had huddled in the dark corners of a cold stony prison, making quiet, solemn promises that no matter the time, no matter the place, they would never grow to become like those who tyrannized them. They would move up in the world, make a name for themselves… buy a house with a yard and a dog… but they would never treat others like they had been treated. They would never walk on people, dehumanize them, give them the worth of slaves…

Tala's eyes slid shut. Behind his eyelids he saw a young eight year old Kai, face marred with dark bruises from having just come back from one of his sessions with Boris, but red eyes bright with fiery determination. The younger Kai clasped Tala's hands in his own and in a voice too old for his body, promised Tala that they would always be friends, that nothing would ever break them apart, that power would never change his view of their friendship.

Tala's eyes opened and he looked into the dark, smoldering depths of the Kai Hiwatari standing before him now.

Last year, Tala had been so shocked just to find out Kai was alive, he had never taken the time to really _look _at him. Now he did.

Kai had grown. And Tala did not mean in a physical way.

Yes, he was taller and stronger than he had been, but Tala was talking about the more subliminal differences.

The Kai Tala had known had been a different person. When they'd first met, Kai had been shy and withdrawn from being bullied so much at the Abbey. But once Tala had gotten past that barrier, he'd found the younger boy to be quite quirky. Loyal to a fault, Kai had had the tenacity of a dog hanging on a rope. Nothing Boris did could break his spirit, or quench that undeniable thirst for adventure, that curious streak, Tala had brought out in him.

But this Kai had no glint of mischief in his eyes and he stood with such an aura of arrogance that Tala had to fight the urge to be affronted. He knew, without having to ask, that Bryan, Spencer and Ian had already labeled Kai a stuck up rich kid, but Tala refused to believe it.

He had known. He had always known that Kai hungered for power, just as he himself longed for respect… but he had never thought, never wanted to believe, that Kai would have let his search for his ultimate goal twist him into someone Tala couldn't even recognize.

Tala had once been able to read Kai's face like an open book.

Now—Tala's eyes scanned Kai's angular face, moving over those cursed triangles, pondering his pale features before finally stopping on blood red eyes—he saw nothing.

* * *

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* * *

I have been standing for the better part of a minute now and I am beginning to wonder if Grandfather will ever acknowledge me, verbally, physically or otherwise.

"Straighten yourself."

I guess I have my answer.

I stand erect and look down at my Grandfather evenly, resisting the urge to cross my arms. He has some self control, more than I ever gave him credit for.

He disappoints me.

"Move away, boy." He turns away, dismissing me with a jerking of two fingers near his temple, as one would a servant. "We have important matters to discuss here and your presence is disturbing me."

Inadvertently, my temper flares. '_How dare he demean me, I am as much a part of this as he is.'_ Unwillingly, my eyes drag themselves to look at Boris. Wanting, and feeling sick because of it, to know how my Grandfather's words have affected him.

His eyes stare through me, lips drawn back like a hungry hyena.

I move away from Grandfather, deciding against causing conflict. My chest constricts though as my pride takes a hit. What feels like years later, I reach the chair reserved for the manager of the Bladebreakers and melt into it tiredly. Sense of propriety—in the face of others— however, keeps my posture from faltering: back ramrod straight, shoulders back, legs neatly crossed, elbows stationary on the wooden armrests with fingers intertwined before me. The only deviation from protocol is caused when my eyelids slide shut.

"Mr. Hiwatari." Mr. Dickenson intones, and both Voltaire and I glance up. Seeing he was addressing Grandfather, I resume my earlier position. "I think we would all appreciate it if you would refrain from insulting any of us here. We have all worked very hard to be here, especially young Mr. Hiwatari here. He has successfully managed, coached and captained last year's world championship beybladers, something someone thrice his age would have had difficulty with. This is a very impressive feat and I believe it warrants a certain amount of respect from all of us."

There is silence for a few moments and I resist the urge to smirk. Grandfather just got told off by _Mr. Dickenson_. Voltaire's opinion of the inconsistent, unreliable Chairman is only a few pegs below mine, and for him to be scolded by this man he considers beneath him is the equivalent of a slap in the face. I open my eyes just enough to see Voltaire's lip curl before closing them again. It is funny, really, he cannot even retort, or Mr. Dickenson could have his job.

* * *

'**;**.**;**'

* * *

The first half of the meeting passes slowly. I do not bother saying or doing much of anything as Mr. Dickenson brings up and discusses many financial and economical issues: lingering debts, paperwork, continuing reparations to the superdome after Tyson and Tala's battle, the potential danger beyblading is to the ozone—the last one is utter nonsense if you ask me—the topics are so incredibly outdated it is an embarrassment to the efficiency of the Board.

Aside from the causerie on going at the table, I notice many of the teams getting restless as well.

Behind me I hear Tyson and Max discussing the success of a new Southern European team in whispers. Apparently the team is called the Barthez Battalion which insofar ranks undefeated, second perhaps to the Bladebreakers— though it sounds a lot like the work of another egotistical megalomaniac to me. Next to them I hear Rei, Mariah and Lee discussing the recipe for a new form of 'tasty curry'. Apparently the secret ingredient to the delicacy is a hint of pineapple. Behind closed eyelids, I roll my eyes at my choice of eavesdropping.

'_You know you are desperate when…'_

Other than the Bladebreaker and White Tigers, I see the Majestics are all asleep: Robert somewhat less conspicuously…if one counts the lack of displayed tonsils… Uncouth, indeed.

The All Starz, to their credit, are not asleep. However, the fact that they are all engrossed in playing with Michael's paint set destroys any credibility they may have gained.

In fact, the only people who appear to be remotely interested in the ongoing discussion are Kenny, Emily—note the complete lack of surprise here—and one more: that girl who attached herself impromptu to the Bladebreakers. I watch through half-closed eyes as she leans forward with unveiled interest, bright-eyed and bushy tailed. I am sure she itches to hold a pad and paper if only to take notes on the meeting; which, unknown to her—though filled with excessive financial terminology and complex grammar—is unfortunately rather uninformative…

…and pretty much remains that way for the next four hours.

* * *

'**;**.**;**' _Four Hours Later…_

* * *

Mrs. Marselis, Ms. Tate, Mrs. Foster and Mr. Dickenson are the only ones who remain talking animatedly, with Mr. Granger periodically injecting his own input. The Bladebreakers, All Starz and White Tigers are all slumped tiredly against the walls. After so many hours of prolonged exposure, no one is an exception to the lethargy in the air; not even the Demolition Boys, who now sit Indian-style against the wood paneled wall.

The assistant delegates, those who had once been standing, had scrounged up some extra chairs, and now join the managers around the table. They were one chair short however, and now only Mr. Granger—who adamantly refused a seat—is standing.

The man boasts physical pride, but the tight grip he has on my chair begs otherwise.

Completely bored out of my mind, I have resorted to watching the teens around me. In the corner of my vision, Mariah is trying, without much success, to teach Max how to spin a pencil around his thumb. After nearly poking Rei's eye out for the fifth time in a row they desist in this activity.

On the opposite end of the room, Steve artlessly paints a black mustache onto a snoring Johnny's face. At some point during this horrid degradation Johnny starts awake and nearly inhales the brush. Conversation in the room halts then as the red head leaps to his feet and storms out of the room screaming vile obscenities that stop just short of physical abuse. Steve is forced to follow, at a safe distance of course—not because he was removed from the room—but because Johnny had gotten revenge before leaving.

The fact that this is pretty much the high point of the day is somewhat sad.

I watch indifferently as a few of the adults rise to deal with the situation and as the other teams fall about laughing, but am more preoccupied by one who did not make any move to intervene.

Mr. Dickenson, I see, does not even attempt to control the situation. My eyes narrow as I consider the man, my elbows resting on the armrest and the knuckle of my right index finger brushing lightly against my lips. '_Well, he certainly has not changed.'_

"Perhaps we should break for lunch, Stanley?" Mr. Tate sends a pointed look toward the chairman.

"Oh?" The man's mustache twitches. "Oh, of course! Of course, everyone… Everyone!" With some help, the crowd is eventually quietened. "We will break here for an hour of lunch. We'll reconvene after everyone has filled their stomachs and freshened their minds." He chuckles at his own attempt at humor.

I sigh and push back my chair. Tensing the muscles in my shoulders and back, I rise slowly: stretching non-obviously while avoiding the head rush. Around me, people are staggering to their feet sluggishly, stumbling and leaning against the walls as they exit the room. The remaining Majestics are woken and join the crowd.

I stand at my chair, watching silently as everyone streams out of the room. Tyson sends me a look suggesting his desire to stay behind and question me, but Rei firmly guides him from the room, though not before sending me a look of his own.

Grandfather's eyes never stray from the door as he strides imperiously from the room.

But then I become aware of another pair of eyes observing me. I turn my head and, for the first time, meet Tala's gaze full on.

Words fail to describe the feeling that passes in that look.

For how look we stared at each other, I do not know. But the Earth and the Moon are reflected in his bright eyes, saying something, telling me something…

'_What?'_

Suddenly, the trance is broken as Bryan walks between us, forcibly grazing Tala's shoulder as he went. Tala blinks and his eyes focus as though waking from a dream. With one last glance in my direction, he turns then and follows Bryan.

'_What was that?'_ My eyes stay on the spot where they had disappeared through the door. '_Why was he looking at me like that? What was he trying to say?'_

It makes no sense. Tala and I met for the first time last year. We barely exchanged even two words with each other. In fact, he avoided me like the plague when we were not forced to be in the same room together. I had though he was jealous; jealous that I had come, out of nowhere, and literally stolen his position on the team without even trying. I had thought he detested me.

But that look…

Spencer appears then in my vision, seemingly following his Captain out of the room. But unexpectedly, he stops abruptly at the threshold, Ian nearly running nose-first into his broad back. Spencer spins on his heel, turning 90 degrees in military precision before striding away from Ian and the door.

"_**I**_**I** _Eyoh! Spencer! Where are you going? __**I**_**I**" Ian calls out in Russian. Spencer ignores the smaller boy; I eye him as he circles the table, making his way over to me.

"I am a man." Spencer states in a low, gravelly voice, his English thick. "And I will not take credit for what another has done in my place."

I say nothing.

"Kai Hiwatari, you have my thanks, for what you did on that day. You were in a position to make a choice, and I appreciate the one you made." His words are cryptic, but intuitively I know what he is referring to. That day, a year ago in the Russian finals… So he had known, all this time, that I threw the match? I resist the urge to raise an eyebrow. "I will not lie, you could have easily defeated me. Especially with _it._"

'_It?'_ It only takes a second for the realization to come. My eyes narrow. '_Black Dranzer.'_

"But if you _ever_ underestimate me again, I will rip your arms off and feed them to your bitbeast. Understand?" His face stays utterly blank and as I stare up into his eyes I cannot figure out if he is lying or not. Not really caring, and getting tired of looking up at the taller boy, I close my eyes and make a low sound behind my teeth.

"Hn."

Without warning, Spencer lets out a guttural laugh. I snap my eyes open to gaze at him narrowly. "Ha! I knew it." He chuckles. "Tala claims you've changed since you've left all those years ago… But _I_ don't think you've changed one bit." I really do raise an eyebrow, his tone was so ambiguous I could not figure out if it was an insult or a complement. "C'mon Ian, lets go." And with long, purposeful steps, Spencer exits the room, Ian trailing after.

For awhile I just stand there, something nagging at my mind like an annoying insect.

'…_all those years ago…'_ Spencer was talking about the time when I first left the Abbey. When I was nine… But that's not possible, I did not know them back then.

'_Or did I?'_ Those hallucinations I have been having threaten to bubble up from the dark depths to which I had banished them. I quickly bury them back again. '_I did not know Tala, Spencer, Bryan or Ian before last year. Or they would have said something, asked something… They acted as though we were strangers when we first met…'_ This was not technically true though. When I had first walked through the door, they had stared at me as though I were Satan reborn on Earth with seven heads and a tail. But I had attributed this to the fact that they had just found out I would be taking over their team and were upset about it.

But what if there was more to it then that?

Why was I drawn to Tala's expression? Why did I let Spencer win the match last year? Why do I even bother to look at them? Why can I not ignore them?

'_Too many questions…'_

But I came here to answer my questions. And answer them I would, in time. For now, it is lunch and I should probably step into the dinning room before someone else gets the brilliant idea to corner me in the boardroom and interrogate me on my past.

Pushing all my troubling thoughts from my mind, at least for now, I leave the boardroom.

In the adjacent room someone has come and cleaned up the dregs of breakfast and replaced it with a buffet style lunch.

And what an interesting buffet it is.

Having spent the better part of a year working at a restaurant under Mrs. Huo's edifying wing, it was inevitable that I learned some of the finer points of cooking. Though I quickly learned that my own splotchy, smoking attempts at cooking were something less than deplorable, it did not stop her from beating a higher level culinary education into my head.

Salads head the table: complex arrangements of cabbage, sliced white mushrooms, diced tomatoes and dried berries. Some of the finer ones are accented with candied walnuts, roasted baby beets, aged goat crotin or pear vinaigrette.

The soups come next, a cold, classic, brackish, borscht is garnished with fresh cucumber, scallions and hard-boiled egg while a hot kislye schi—made with pickled cabbage—and a simmering bouillabaisse add an interesting contrast. Spread in spiraling patterns around the soup bowls are all sorts of crackers. Spreads include shades of roast beef, turkey, chicken and ham all arranged in neat rolls; herring, anchovies escargots, calamari, olives, caviar; sour cream, beef pâté and babghanouj.

Main lunch dishes include first, many kinds of sandwiches: chicken, Rueben, smoked salmon and Portobello mushroom with Swiss cheese; all layered on ciabatta, white or pumpernickel bread with sauerkraut. There is also shashlyk, which, like shish kebabs, is fashioned from marinated meat—alternating with onions, peppers and tomatoes—grilled on a skewer. On the side are fresh slices of watermelon, apple and banana.

Available from a large punch bowl is stya, a non-alcoholic drink made from brewed honey. Otherwise, there is chai, mineral water and coffee

Finally for those who lacked any and all sense of finesse, there are sodas, fries, onion rings, barbeque wings and a pizza.

Not many people have taken their food yet, but even from a distance I can practically hear Tyson salivating, so for the benefit of my own continuing health I decide to quickly take what I want. I consider the lot carefully, but cannot repress the queasiness that twists my stomach at the sight of the wings. I have never been graced with a large appetite—which only became all the more obvious when I met Tyson, who, in comparison, makes me look positively abstinent—but lunch is one meal I rarely, if ever, partake in.

Nonetheless, I make my choice: picking two shashlyk from a plate at the very far end of the table, using a fork to remove the skewer. Turning to walk away, I pause for a second and look back. Reaching over I tug a small slice of pizza free and place it onto my plate.

After having made my choice I quietly retreat to a corner, watching, as everyone falls onto the food. My eyes search the room thoughtfully until they finally spot what I'm looking for.

The Demolition Boys.

Tala, Bryan, Spencer and Ian. They look…

'_Fine. They look fine.'_

The four of them are seated quietly on a sofa at the far end of the room. Disallowed from so much as sighing without permission—let alone eating—I would imagine. I look around again and notice both Boris and Voltaire with their backs to us. '_Now is as good a time as any.'_ I figure, though my feet feel stuck to the ground.

I resolve myself and forcibly move. With quick, assured steps, I carry myself to the boys. Stopping before Tala, I stare downward at him silently. He makes no move to meet my eyes, staring ahead blankly.

"We don't need your charity."

I do not respond to Bryan's words, but keep my eyes focused on Tala. It makes no sense, I do not remember ever having met him before last year, and we quite despised each other then… So why then am I doing this?

" '_The heaven's despised do not fall so far as one who would do so willingly.'_ "

... '_Where did that come from?'_ The words had fallen quietly from my lips before I am even consciously aware of it. My mind is telling me that this is a quote from an ancient holy scripture, written in English since precious few Russian holy books had survived the Soviet Era… and yet, I do not remember ever having read those words before

… But that phrase… it is an apology of sorts… or at least as close as I've ever come to one… '_But why am I apologizing to Tala?'_

…'_Why am I apologizing at all?'_

More than a little unsettled, and blaming it fully on those hallucinations I have been having, I decide to withdraw and maintain whatever dignity I have left. Which is not much; judging by the gobsmacked looks the Russian boys before me are wearing. Their apoplexy must be absolute.

I lay the dish on the table before them and turn to walk away.

"_**I**_**I** _Wait. __**I**_**I**"

I don't know what makes me stop and turn, but I do, and I see Tala staring at the plate in ill-concealed astonishment before slowly dragging his eyes up to meet mine.

"_**I**_**I** …_You…remembered… __**I**_**I**"

'_What?'_ Is my internal response. I don't understand what he's talking about, so I do not make any move to reply.

"_**I**_**I** …_That day, seven years ago… I told you that the one thing I've always wanted to try was pizza. I never told anyone else that… __**I**_**I**" Here, Bryan, Spencer and Ian eye their captain quizzically, obviously wondering what has gotten into him. My back has stiffened, a strange tingling sensation in the back of my mind… this is familiar somehow. "_**I**_**I** _And you… __**I**_**I**" Tala's eyes are filled with some deep emotion, I swallow. "_**I**_**I** _You remembered. __**I**_**I**"

I back away with a scowl. What is he talking about? I don't remember any such thing.

'_Then why did you pick up the pizza? You hold no affect toward it.'_

I won't believe it. I _can't_ believe it. If that's true…then that would mean Tala and I had been more than acquaintances once…but that's not possible. It can't be possible.

I don't know why I'm so against this, but something within me refuses to accept that I had ever _cared_. That anyone _else_ had ever cared.

'_Then you did so much worse than just walk away when you left them last year…'_

"I remember nothing." I grit out, purposely using English. And turn first my head to the side, then follow with my body until my back is to him. But I can't make my feet carry me away.

_**I**_**I** _I… forgive you… Naar. __**I**_**I** Tala's soft words are an icy fist around my heart..

'_Naar…'_ That word…

I walk away from them, from _him_.

'_Naar…'_ _Fire…_

'_Thalj…'Ice…_

A familiar pressure has been steadily building between my temples since I had first approached Tala. It was the same disorienting sensation that had caused my collapse in the alley—that had swallowed my mind when I opened my book…

Now it has reached a peak and I instinctively find a quiet corner to lean into. Shoving my back securely into the wall, I tightly cross my arms over my chest and let my head hang.

I can feel my mind slipping away. Precious control passing through my fingers like water as darkness closes in.

A curse is stifled on my tongue before it is uttered…

…I _will_ stay standing through this.

* * *

'**;**.**;**'.**;**'**;**.'**;**.**;**'.**;**'**;**.'**;**.**;**'.**;**'**;**.'**;**.**;**'.**;**'**;**.'**;**.**;**'.**;**'**;**.'**;**.**;**'.**;**'**;**.'**;**.**;**'.**;**'**;**.'**;**.**;**'

**_End Chapter Nineteen_…**

**… _To Be Continued_**

'**;**.**;**'.**;**'**;**.'**;**.**;**'.**;**'**;**.'**;**.**;**'.**;**'**;**.'**;**.**;**'.**;**'**;**.'**;**.**;**'.**;**'**;**.'**;**.**;**'.**;**'**;**.'**;**.**;**'.**;**'**;**.'**;**.**;**'

* * *

SO! Did my food descriptions make you hungry? XD

**banan:** Hah ha, I hate that 'no angle brackets' rule too. It took me forever to figure out why all my reviews and responses were getting cut off ;P I'm glad you liked Johnny's part! He was ridiculously hard to write (I mean, he doesn't like Kai! How can anyone not like Kai?! XD). Oh and lots more Voltaire-Kai interaction in this chapter! I hope you liked! I enjoyed reading all your theories of the Huo family XP I can't tell you what's going to happen in the story, but I can say that Huo's will have a role to play… Oh and no, Mr. Huo isn't a transvestite clone of Voltaire's wife XD. I loved the long response you wrote to my response to your review (o.O did that even make sense?), so thanks! Oh, and Sonya and Mikhail are not clones either (Lol!). Kai's Grandmother is dead, sadly, but all your theories are kinda scary, 'cause I think you don't realize how close you are to figuring something out (again!)! Gah! You gotta stop peeking into my head XD!

**fawks136:** Yeah, Kai lied, but isn't he still amazingly cool when he lies XD Anyway, hope you liked the chapter!

**Canyx: **Hey! I know you have an account and stuff, but since you sent me this review anonymously I figured I would respond here ;P I'm glad you liked the transition between Johnny and Kai. I wanted to create that sort of 'clash' between ways of thinking and personalities. I enjoy trying to figure out different characters' personalities and, given the same situation, how differently they would each react. I try to put that in my story, but I'm not always sure if it's noticeable to anyone but me, so I'm always very happy to hear if I've managed to convey those kind of subtle differences. It's really hard to do, but it's also one of the reasons why I wanted to write this fic (you wouldn't believe how long it took me to figure out Kai's character XD). Anyway, so thanks for telling me that, and I hope you liked the chapter!

"**kR!t#Y":** Hiya! I love late reviews! It gives me a pleasant surprise when I'm all brain-dead from sitting through a 3 hour chemistry tutorial XP I hope you do/did well in your basketball tournament! So, yeah, to get to your question… Hm… did Johnny and Kai ever talk to each other? Well, I guess it depends on your definition of 'talk' XD. When the Breakers went to Europe, they stayed at Robert's mansion where they met Johnny (they had already met Robert, Oliver and Enrique). Johnny challenged Kai and Kai refused, I think he told Johnny that he 'missed his anger management class' or something XD. But Johnny got angry and he and Kai eventually fought. Kai lost (sigh). After that, they eventually fought again, and Kai won. So they never really talked to each other, just threw insults while fighting ;P. I'm glad you liked the way Kai interacted with Voltaire. I never like it when, in fanfics, he just randomly explodes in fits of emotion… It's too out of character, he's too… self-aware for that… Don't get me wrong though, Kai is bound to slip up sometime, but he's too smart to let Voltaire get the better of him… right now :3. Anyway, thanks for the long review! It made my day (heh, heh, when you made that James Bond comment, I actually pictured Kai throwing the door open, striding into the room with everyone staring at him, then striking this 'I'm-cooler-than-you-could-ever-hope-to-be' pose and saying: "The name's Hiwatari, Kai Hiwatari". LOL! That would be amazing!).

**Thanks to: banan (and banan, ha!), d1bontemp, fawks136, Kais-lil-lover, FlamingIce94, Samu, UNpReDiCtAbLE lIfE, BloodRedViolet, Canyx, wolf's lament, lady KCassandra, phoenix-falling, Cailiany, terracannon876, Nameless Little Girl, ladyofwest, bladz-liska and "kR!t#Y"**

**Adio!**

**Sholay**


	23. Fire and Ice

Hiya!

**Chapter 20!** It's amazing! It feels like I only just posted the prologue a little while ago! Wow, this story has really grown since then… Let's all take a moment to reflect…

…

…Ok moment over! Let's move on with the story, shall we?

**Disclaimer:**No! I don't own Beyblade. The shock blew me over the moon; please excuse me while I go play with the nice alien people.

**Special Thanks **to **Okamikai **who made my first **Fanart! **Yay! You should check out her amazing piece of work, when I saw it I was knocked completely speechless. To find it you should go to this link (without the spaces): http: / okamikai. deviantart. com/art/Sooryavansham-81423002 … If that doesn't work, go to deviantart. com and search for 'Sooryavansham'. Her pic is the first one that shows up, the pretty, colorful one XD

Enjoy!

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

_After the world championships in Russia, Kai just wanted to vanish. Then one day, inevitably, Kai is drawn back and ensnared in an intricate web of magic and legends; wrought by forsaken history and controlled by none other than Voltaire. _

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_"I find the answers aren't so clear  
Wish I could find a way to disappear  
All these thoughts they make no sense  
I find bliss in ignorance"_

—Linkin Park _One Step Closer_

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**Chapter 20: ****_Fire and Ice_**

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'**;**.**;**' _Flash _'**;**.**;**'

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"Red, what happened?"

I groan quietly upon hearing a voice to my right… this is not a good time for noise. Prying my eyes open, and squinting, I am barely able to make out the blurry figure next to my bed.

"_Tala_," I sigh. Honestly, what is he doing in my room? The guy is too nosey for his own good.

"Red, _what happened?_" He is even more insistent as he kneels down next to me. A small smile crosses my face as I stare upwards. _'Tala, you worry too much…'_ But when I look back at him, I notice something is off about him. I squint harder and scrutinize him. There is some hidden emotion buried in his eyes.

Something happened at the lab.

"Nothing," I answer him shortly. "Just the usual. What happened to you?"

Tala's eyes immediately drop and he rocks back onto his feet before walking slowly to the other side of my cell.

"…Nothing…"

I sigh and sink back onto my bed, wincing and shifting a little as a spring prods into my back. "Please don't make me dig it out of you Tala. I don't have it in me right now. Eight hours of 'personal' training with Boris is no walk in the park, you know that."

Tala and I have known each other for a few months now. We've gotten to know each other pretty well actually—mostly due to his efforts—but I appreciate them more than I'm willing to say.

Tala made himself a permanent addition to my life, making it his business to find out everything he possibly can about me. In the beginning this had more than alarmed me, his upbeat, exuberant attitude a sharp contrast to my own withdrawn one. Grossly disappointed in my 'goody-two-shoes' attitude, as he called it, he made it his 'mission' to liven up my life, much to my dismay. In Tala's mind, this meant late night scavenger hunts, sneaking into the kitchen and random acts of graffiti in the training rooms. At first I had protested, the idea of going against Boris' rules terrified me as not much else could. But Tala could not be stopped and I soon found myself being dragged across the Abbey doing things I would have never done had I been alone and sane.

Tala picked the locks on our cells and the dorm floor and we had crept upstairs in the dead of the night, keeping to the shadows and avoiding the guards. We stole a vat of olive oil and emptied it onto the Beyblade training launchers. Then we poured five bottles of tobasco sauce into the food set apart for the guards and Boris.

The next day, no one could hold onto their launchers long enough to get off a good shot. Training was cancelled and the Abbey children rejoiced.

And though it cost us our dinner, I don't think a single boy will ever forget the look on Boris' face as he burst into the cafeteria, face red as a beet and screaming at the top of his lungs while a soiled napkin dangled comically from his collar.

Fear of being caught had strung my nerves tighter than a violin for the whole day. It was like I had swallowed some large, furry and alive… and it was trying to claw its way out of my throat. My stomach had ached constantly, and my body had trembled uncontrollably.

…And yet, to my horror, I had _enjoyed _it.

The Abbey had been hit with a wave of inexplicable pranks after that: A swarm of bees somehow found their way into the cruelest head trainer's office, Boris' goggles were painted pink, the doors to the kitchen were welded shut—forcing the staff to have food (actual meat, and peas! It was the best meal I'd ever had.) brought in for the students… And once, a long white tablecloth with a caricature of Boris dressed only in a diaper and baby's bib, adorned with both horns and a tail and spitting fire had replaced the coat of arms flag atop Abbey's highest turret.

Sometimes I helped Tala in his pranks, but most times I was left baffled, wondering how on Earth he managed to do the things he did.

No one ever discovered us, but after I noticed Boris' moods begin to shift from merely angry to something bordering murderous, I urged Tala to stop his pranks. He had listened, for the most part, and now the Abbey is only occasionally struck by an attack from 'Billy Joe-ker'.

Tala hadn't been very pleased when I had told him—amidst much laughter at his expense—the name the Abbey boys had coined for the phantom prankster.

Irregardless of the assets he brought to the Abbey's nonexistent underground mafia, Tala's presence at the abbey also caused massive upheavals within the ranks. For one thing, his charismatic personality and cocksure attitude was an instant hit with all the students, shooting his popularity up to cosmic levels. It helped also that his prior, pre-abbey friendship with Vasili's two best groupies: Bryan and Spencer, effectively broke the bullying ring, bringing both boys to Tala's side.

More than that, my own friendship with Tala caused quite a stir: the amazing, popular, Tala—friends with self-ostracized 57? What was going to happen next? Boris breaking out into sea shanties and handing out candy bars? I think not. But Tala refused to break off his friendship with me, which—though hurting his own status and doing nothing for mine—did cause me to stare at him in wonder long enough for him to punch me lightly before pulling me into a short hug, which we both broke away from quickly, never to be mentioned again.

The unfortunate consequence of all this is that Tala had once told me he didn't _mind_ being at the Abbey. It is much better than the Orphanage he had been stuck at before—or so he'd said. Here he has friends and food and guaranteed shelter. Here he can joke and laugh and play. But over all, here he can achieve his greatest goal: education… _recognition_.

Tala hashigh ambitions, his drive to carve his own path in the world is what makes him get up in the morning every day… Much as my own desires do… It is the result of living in such extreme circumstances, I guess, to have such extreme goals. One could call Tala a die-hard, idealistic fool… one could call me power-obsessed. But the Abbey inspired such thoughts. In a place such as this, anything less than single-minded prey drive of a lion, will earn you a nice, cold hole cut into the Earth where you can reflect on you laziness forever.

Tala felt this was fair, that it was the strong that survived in the world and the weak that got cut out. He respected the opportunity the Abbey gave to us, children who would have otherwise rotted in the gutters of Moscow, used in the worst ways by the scum of the world. And he felt that we should all work our hardest, to show our gratefulness for the chance we were being given… and when yet another child was dragged away—crying and screaming, to the lower levels of the Abbey, never to be seen again— Tala looked the other way.

But to _me…_

To me, the Abbey is…

_'Hell… it's hell; I can admit that in my mind at least… it's not blasphemy if it's true…'_

It was one of the topics Tala and I will never agree on. He throws his street-wise views in my face, asking me how I could possibly know anything when I have never seen outside these walls. He had seen what was out there though, and it was much worse than what was here. _'A week out there,' _He would say_ 'And you'll crawl back here on your knees, begging them to take you in, begging for your own bed, shelter over your head and constant meals… Begging for the cell you hate, that you claim constricts your freedom. Because one week out there will teach you that being locked in a room by yourself is worlds better than sleeping in the open where anyone can walk by and snatch you off the ground at any second.'_

And though my anger flared, though I gripped and sulked, I could not refute his words; because the truth is that I _don't _remember anything other than this Abbey. The months I spent on the streets before being found by the Abbey are a blur, like some fuzzy nightmare that causes a shadow in the back of my mind, darting out of sight every time I tried to focus on it.

I came to the Abbey when I was six… or so they said. I remember nothing from before that. And yet, I can't help but feel that Tala is wrong.

Usually, it is his place to be optimistic, but when it came to human nature and the outside world, I amthe idealistic one. Tala calls me crazy, but I still hang onto my beliefs that there are good people out there. I don't know from where this faith came from, but it keeps me grounded. I refuse to believe that the Abbey is the best thing people like us could ever hope for.

But though Tala has a favorable opinion of the Abbey, even he does not like how Boris pulls me away every now and again for 'special lessons'. And though he doesn't know everything that goes on behind Boris' closed doors, he knows, at the very least, that I'm not exactly in superlative shape right now.

Boris' training usually varies from intense to nothing short of torture, depending on his mood swings. Sometimes he sticks to one exercise, such as pulling the ripcord or running laps, and has me do it for hours on end. Other times he is erractic, throwing one excercise at me, then yanking me off to the labs before I'd even finished it. Of all the training, the labs are the worst, I think. I achieve nothing in them, but end up looking like a pincushion (and feeling like it too) once I come out.

I guess the only constant in Boris' training is the aching, throbbing pain that has set into my limbs by the time I finally crawl back into my bed. I try to lift my arm gingerly, and my eyes squint as a pulse of pain beats through the muscle in time with my heartbeat. It goes to show how used to this I am when I fail to be alarmed that I can't feel my hands. _'Tch, training tomorrow is going to be fun...'_

I can just be thankful that I hadn't done anything punishable today, and that Boris hadn't been in one of his 'moods'…_ 'Thank goodness.'_

Giving myself a mental shake, I return to the present. Looking up, I notice Tala is still standing in the corner of my cell. He's avoiding eye contact and fidling with something in his pocket, obviously struggling with whatever he wants to say. Not having the patience to wait, I decide to help him out a little.

"Listen, I know you want to tell me, so just spit it out already!"

Tala looks at me for a second, then in a rush he blurts out:

"TheyexperimentedonLupin!"

"WHAT?" I shoot upwards—and fall back with a strangled cry when my chest and abdomen flare with pain. The world blurs and white spots explode before my eyes, blinding me for a moment. I squeeze my eyes shut with a grimace.

"Red!" Tala calls—from somewhere in the fog of my mind—I hear him rushing towards me. "Are you alright? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…"

"No, no," I interrupt disagreeably, waving his outstretched hands away with only slight paranoia as he nears—much better than I used to be—"It's alright. I'm fine. Don't touch me." The last part is a mutter, slipping between my teeth unintentionally.

Tala draws back, ever respectful of my space, having long since gotten used to my 'questionable quiddities' as he put it.

I slowly settle myself once more. A few awkward second pass.

"May I see him?" I ask.

Tala looks at me strangely. "Huh?"

"May I see Lupin?"

"O-oh! Of course…wait a sec…here he is." Tala fishes the bit chip out of his pocket then rolls it into his palm, staring at it. I hold out my numb hand, ignoring the twinges of pain that move up and down my arm. "They had me call on him, then stuck him in this tube… They shocked him… And the tube filled up with all this… _stuff._" Here Tala got a faraway look in his eyes and shuddered. Silently, I realized this must have been Tala's first experience in the labs. "They said they… gave himan element or something… they said he wasn't a 'true' bitbeast without one." He mumbles sadly. Slowly he reaches out and drops the chip into my waiting hand.

But then something strange happens.

The second the chip touches me a burning pain sears my hand and I jerk away with a yelp.

Both Tala and I start at my reaction and Tala only barely manages to catch the bit before it hits the ground. I retract my hand and stare at it above my head with wide eyes.

_'It burned me! But that hardly ever happens anymore, not after Boris started that special training…'_ But this burn had felt different, not like fire, but like…

"They gave him _ice_?" I ask incredulously.

Tala, who is clutching his bit protectively, looks up at me with shock. "Yeah…" He says confusedly. "But how did you…why did he… why?" He stutters, not being able to decide on a question. I roll my eyes at him.

"My bitbeasts element is fire, Tala. Fire! Fire and ice don't mix. They gave you that element not just to make you stronger, but to separate us as well!"

Tala's mouth opens in a big 'O' of surprise. "That's…that's, that's…" words have failed him. "Evil!" But his shock only lasts a moment before a mischievous grin crosses his face. I frown, that grin is never a good sign, usually resulting in me ending up in some embarrassing or potentially hazardous situation. "Well, we won't let them, will we? You'll always be my little brother, won't you, _Naar_?"

I pause for a moment, letting the meaning of the word wash over me. Tala thinks I'm going to ask him what Naar means… ha, little does he know. I let a smirk of my own cross my face. "And you'll always be my older brother, _Thalj_."

Tala looks me in astonishment. "How did you know that word? We only learned it today in class, and you weren't there!"

I give him a criticizing look. "I know more than you think."

He huffs in response, pouting a little. "That's not fair…" But he only maintains this look for a second before going back to normal, grinning again. "Well, then that's what we are, huh? _Naar and thalj, fire and ice_… Thanks for helping me feel better about Lupin, Naar."

I smile. "You're welcome, Thalj."

Tala then takes a seat next to me and grasps my unhurt hand in his. "Get better, ok Naar? You can't let Boris pull you under."

A derisive snort escapes me. "Never."

Tala smiles softly down at me. "Good, we'll pull through this, who knows, we might just be world famous Beybladers one day."

His tone is sarcastic, but I can't help it when my own thoughts are taken far away with this thought. "Yeah… imagine that…" I shake myself then and focus back on Tala. "Of course we'll get through. After all, we've got Dranzer and Lupin's still there too, he's just a little different."

Tala looks again at the bit in his hand. "Yeah…" he says softly and I raise an eyebrow, that's his thinking voice. "I was thinking about that." He adds and I roll my eyes. _'Knew it'_.

"What?" I ask.

"Well, I think I should rename him."

"Why?"

"Well, Lupin just doesn't seem to fit anymore."

I consider this for a moment, then decide that it's Tala's choice, and his beast's. He should know what feels right for him. "Ok," I agree. "Show him to me, let me see."

Tala holds the chip above my head and I consider the picture of what had once been Lupin. Tala is right; Lupin really doesn't seem to fit him anymore. The wolf in the picture is… feral. Lupin had always looked more refined and lordly.

The wolf had been white to begin with, but now he seemed silver in places, changing to a translucent, sharp, icy blue on the edges of his fur, especially on the hock, pastern and withers. The claws are longer and sharper than I remember. Where Lupin had once stared stoically out of the blade with a lowered head and regal, chocolate brown eyes, this wolf now holds his head in an insolent toss wearing a challenging snarl, sharpened fangs bared in warning. Clear, light-blue eyes of steel pin the watcher with unnerving intensity. The tail, also made of sharp crystalline ice, is curled protectively around the outer edges of the blade.

The change is quite profound and though it probably made Lupin stronger, I still hate Boris and the Abbey for what they did to Lupin and to Tala. I hope though, that the spirit himself wasn't changed.

"Er…" I suddenly remember that Tala is expecting a response, but find myself fresh out of wolf names. "What about… Wol…" Is it that bad that the only thing I can think of is _'Wolfie'_? Yeah, I guess it is.

"…Berg."

I blink, then look up at Tala. "What?"

"Wolberg…" He says slowly, quietly and then looks up and into my eyes. "Wolberg!" He repeats, this time stronger.

"Wol_berg_?" I ask, just to make sure I heard right, and trying not to laugh. I must have done a bad job though, because Tala's small smile immediately falls.

"What?..." Tala falters. "You don't like it?"

"No, no!" _'Damn, I didn't know he was serious. And he was just starting to perk up,'_ I rush to backtrack on my words.

"It's not that… Wolberg." I try my best to seriously consider it, but can't quite rationalize the fact that _'berg' _means _'mountain' _in German. Honestly… Wool-mountain?... I have to bit the side of my cheek to keep from sniggering. I can't put Tala down like that. Compromise, I have to think of a compromise…Then an idea hits me.

"Wolborg!" I burst out.

"Wolborg?" Tala looks like he's seriously considering it.

I nod. "Wolborg." I say again. The word was strange, but the more I heard it, the more it seemed to fit… in an odd, nonsensical way.

Then Tala beams at me, and I return it with a crooked smirk. He tosses the chip in the air, catches it, then opens his palm to stare at it with a nod.

"Ok, Wolborg it is then."

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I only just manage to suppress a gasp as I am abruptly thrown into the present. I realize I've fallen sideways against the wall, and quickly right myself. At the very least, I managed to stop myself from falling over, and I don't think anyone else noticed my little side-trip to _Shangri-La_.

I lean back into the wall, drawing up one knee so that the foot is resting on the wall as well. I cross my arms, but do not close my eyes. Instead I turn my head to look out the window I am standing next to. It seems strangely convenient that there would be a window located in the most nondescript corner of the room. I wonder if it was intentional, an attempt to make something out of nothing…-

I shake my head, recognizing the rambling symptoms and wanting to dislodge them before they can grow into something malicious. My mind meanders itself back to the vision I just had and I frown distastefully at the window.

I had been thinking about Tala before it happened. Before that it had been the screaming man and before even that it had been the journal. It is obvious that the hallucinations are related to the thoughts I am having at the moment; are they subconscious fears or desires?

…But no, I do not remember ever desiring a friendship with Tala; we had only met briefly a year ago, not nearly long enough for me to form an opinion on him.

_'Then what is causing these hallucinations? Can they really be…memories?'_

No. _No._If they were memories, I would know for sure, would I not? There would be some rising emotion, some returning feelings, or nostalgia. But I feel no different, I still feel indifferent toward Tala, and Boris… _Boris…_

But anyway, if I had been such good friends with Tala, he would have mentioned something, anything, by now. He would have said something when I saw him last year, asked me why I abandoned him, or why I did not seem to remember him. But he just acted like I was a nameless pest, annoying but easily ignored. So there is the proof, it never happened.

_'But if I am unwilling to accept this as my past, then what did happen during those first nine years of my life?'_

_'I do not know,'_ I close my eyes, well aware I am having a conversation with myself, but past caring. _'Maybe I did train at the Abbey, but it is just an institute… an evil institute: designed to turn the children into mindless slaves, but an institute none the less. Surely all the children do not live there. I should have had a family somewhere, a mother or father… something normal. I trained hard at the Abbey, then went home… there was no torture… no desperate friendships formed to leech any sort of human comfort… no…'_

The image of a leering Boris bearing down on me flashes behind my eyelids and I snap my eyes open.

_'No,'_

"Hallucinations." I breathe quietly. "Nothing more."

"Ha, ha, c'mon Tyson, it's just a snail!" Loud, boisterous voices reach my ears and I latch onto them, needing the distraction in spite of myself. I look over to see the Majestics laughing about something as they surround Tyson, who is hacking gustily.

"Only a snail!" The boy gags. "Are you kidding? Why didn't you guys _tell_me what Ess-kar-got was!"

Oliver laughs. "You seemed t_h_o be en_j_oying it_h_. Beside, it_h_ is very good." And with nefarious pointedness, tosses one of the offending pieces of dark meat into him mouth and swallows with obvious enjoyment. He brings his fingertips to his mouth, kissing them. _"Mwoa! Délicieux!"_

"And they aren't _ess-**kar**-got_!" Says the new girl, poking Tyson in the chest for every syllable in the word. "They're called _escar**go**t."_

Tyson gags again dramatically and the Majestics chuckle. The girl merely rolls her eyes. "Honestly," she sighs. "You have no sense of TASTE, you only gorge."

"Auh," Tyson growls irritably. "Be quiet, Hilary!" Then he brightens. "At least… At least this kal-a-marry and kav-i-are is good." He puts in, attempting to save face and failing horribly.

No one around him says anything for a few seconds, they just exchange glances. By this time, Rei and the White Tigers are listening in on the conversation and they begin to snigger, causing a ripple of laughter to move through the group. Tyson looks back and forth between all of them.

"Whhhaaaatttt?" He whines.

The girl, Hilary, puts her fingertips on her forehead and sighs. "I'm tired," she states. "Someone else explain it to him."

Tyson is still looking around in befuddlement, the perfect glutton for punishment, Rei, finally taking pity on the poor puerile soul, whispers something into his ear.

"No!" Is Tyson's aghast response and he promptly begins gagging again.

Max turns his attention away from the All-Starz to look at Tyson with a complacent smile. "I told him to put mustard on it" he shrugs. "It would have tasted much better."

All four teams stare at Max in disbelief. "MUSTARD?!" They somehow manage to simultaneously yell.

Max just returns this incredulousness with a patient frown. "Of course. Mustard tastes good with everything." He ends with a grin and a shrug as though he had just stated that the sky is blue and the sun yellow.

The girl lets out an exasperated groan, covering her face with her hands. "Oh good grief! You're all hopeless! Absolutely no…" She pauses, searching for the right word, which Mariah cautiously supplies with a raised index finger.

"…Sense of taste?"

Everyone laughs and I exhale through my nose. It was not that funny. Looking over to the Demolition Boys I see even they are concealing derogative smirks behind Boris' back.

I am alone in my opinion then. What was it Tyson had called me once?

_'Heartless.'_

But 'tis better to be heartless than a simpering, gullible fool.

My eyes move from the bladers to fall instead on the adults, who are sipping tea and coffee while conversing in quiet tones. My eyes sharpen when one or two of them glance over at me.

_'Now what are **they** talking about?'_

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**_End Chapter Twenty_…**

**… _To Be Continued_**

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**PLEASE READ!! **Hey! I have an important **question** for you guys! I've been thinking about changing the summary for this story (It just seems to be a little too… vague) and I was wondering if anyone could give me advice on this. Anyway I was thinking about something like:

_'Post Season 1, Kai Hiwatari has been missing for a year. Now, a reunion in Russia will be the catalyst that sets off a chain of events unraveling the secrets of Kai's past… and Voltaire's ambition.'_

What do you think? Also if you have the time, please answer my poll question on my profile, it'll help me figure out if my summary thus far has been effective.

**fawks136: **XD Yeah, Tala's desire to try pizza was supposed to show how deprived and also how sheltered the boys are at the Abbey. In that way, Tala is a lot more naïve that Kai… but in some ways, such as Tala's idealismand ability to make friends with anyone, it's Tala who is more wise than Kai… Don't they make a great team? Each make up for the other's faults XP

**"kR!t#Y":**Ha ha, you really can't beat the passion and love of a good coach, huh? You know I once had a biology teacher who literally just read off slides that he had on the internet. I would have totally skipped that class except he made attendance mandatory (probably 'cause he knew no one would show up otherwise XP). Anyway, I'm glad you like Kai's character. He took me FOREVER to make up. I actually wrote this long profile thingy about his likes, dislikes, attitudes, reactions and all that (now I know why authors do that for anime, it's like making your character _real_, a little scary, really, 'cause sometimes I found myself dreaming of Kai, where I WAS Kai… XD Weird enough 'cause I'm a GIRL, but… XP… Has anything like that ever happened to you?). Also, you know, I almost feel sorry for Hilary, surrounded by a whole bunch of guys… but then I remember one of those guys is Kai and I don't feel so sorry for her anymore :3. You know, I actually got all those food descriptions off the internet from various Russian restaurant sites, so those were all real dishes, crazy huh? Oh and don't worry! This fic is not going to become a yaoi. In fact, it probably won't have any romance in it at all. I just don't feel like Kai is ready for any romantic relationships… plus don't trust myself to write romance convincingly XD. Thanks so much though for telling me about Boris' name! You gave me a wonderful idea, his name IS perfect… Hmmm (rubs hands together, grinning evilly).

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**Please check out Okamikai's wonderful fanart for this fic! You'll find it at http: / okamikai.deviantart. com/art/Sooryavansham-81423002 (without the spaces). If that doesn't work, go to deviantart. com and search for 'Sooryavansham'.**

**Adio!**

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	24. The Dynasty

**Chapter 21**

Finally! I've been waiting for this chapter! (Cracks fingers) This is going to be fun…

Early and oddly timed update… what can I say? I couldn't wait to post this chapter! I changed the summary, what do you guys think?

**Disclaimer:** Beyblade is Takao Aoki's. The plot however is mine, along with all original characters.

Enjoy!

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

_After the world championships in Russia, Kai just wanted to vanish. Then one day, inevitably, Kai is drawn back and ensnared in an intricate web of magic and legends; wrought by forsaken history and controlled by none other than Voltaire. _

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**_Tyson_**_: He ain't so tough... _

_  
**Kai**: I heard that! _

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**Chapter 21:** **_The Dynasty_**

"So, Lord Hiwatari, you are supporting your Grandson's story?" Mr. Dickenson asked slowly over his cup of tea.

"Certainly" was the man's sanguine response. Voltaire seemed strangely affable in light of the day's events. "The boy was with his Grandmother. What else is there to say on the matter?"

"I was under the impression that _you_ were his only living relative though." Mr. Dickenson kept his voice carefully light, all hint of accusation nonexistent.

"Well, you were misinformed." Voltaire said carelessly, waving his fingers in the same jerking, dismissive motion he had made to Kai earlier. Laying his own cup of coffee down—fastidiously placing the china cup directly in the center of a saucer—Voltaire placed a hand delicately to double breasted, dark maroon suit, holding the edges together as he smoothly stood with a rustling of expensive silk. With dexterous, spindly fingers, he quickly hooked each silver button into its respective eye-hole and shot his cuffs. Stopping midway through the last act, Voltaire turned his head ever so slightly to regard Mr. Dickenson in his peripheral vision.

"Lady Nadya Vladmirovna Hiwatari. 1086 Snegorochka Avenue: a small, petty house with a little picket fence, typically her. Make the effort to research and you will discover all proof of her existence. Now," Voltaire stepped away from Mr. Dickenson, tugging at his last cuff. The intricate cufflink glistened with the motion and the starched, black inner dress shirt slapped smartly against his wrist. "If you would excuse me, I have important matters to discuss with Director Balkov." Not waiting for consent, Voltaire turned sharply and strode swiftly away—expensive leather shoes tapping against the wooden floor—toward where Boris stood stiffly next to the door of the conference room.

Stanley heaved a great sigh of petulance, worrying the inside of his bottom lip with his teeth. He had two choices: either he could spend the time and resources to check Voltaire's story… or he could take Hiwatari's words for face value and forget about the whole tedious affaire. Mentally, the man weighted the pros and cons:

If he checked the story and found it false: he would possibly be able to help Kai out of a dangerous situation… _'But that boy is so belligerent, and independent, he always gets whatever he wants regardless.'_ Plus Voltaire would probably pay off the authorities, leaving Stanley in the open and the only one to take the blame for negligence and irresponsible conduct… It could mean his job…

If he checked the story and found it _true_. Well, that was all well and good, but he would probably still be hauled in for a _word_ with the board… Again, if anyone found out he had practically _lost_ Kai, he would loose his reputation, his credibility, his job… He had spent too many years climbing the corporate ladder in the Beyblading industry to take such a hit to his career; he'd never be able to recover…

If however, he just assumed Voltaire's words were true… that Kai had truly spent the year with his Grandmother…Well, the board would never find out about his temporary _misplacement_. Kai was marvelously closed-mouthed about his personal life. He wouldn't tell anyone even _if_ he was… But that was unthinkable.

_'It's ridiculous to even think that a man as affluent as Voltaire Hiwatari would do something so inhumane and so foolish as to abuse his own Grandson, especially not so soon after the Biovolt fiasco.' _Mr. Dickenson rationalized. _'Surely if anything had been going on someone would have noticed, the police, or the Bladebreakers. Besides, Kai is the last boy who would stand for that kind of treatment. Making a scene now, when Voltaire is not only probably innocent, but on his own turf, could be disastrous. It could hurt me, and it could hurt Kai… so I **am** doing the right thing.' _If he just left the situation alone, everything would smooth out and go back to normal.

Whoever said Stanley was incapable of making decisions?

So absorbed in his thoughts was he, Mr. Dickenson completely missed the hovering figure of Ryu Granger. Lingering discreetly near the coffee table, and trying to make it look like he was absorbed in his drink, Tyson's Grandfather fingered the _gratuit _pen on the table, then picked it up, writing something idly on pad.

Except the marks emerging on the pad were hardly idle doodling.

"1086 Snegorochka Avenue… Hm" Ryu laid the pen back down, then detached the paper and tucked it into his jacket. "It could be nothing…" But Granger's eyes sought out and found the younger Hiwatari—who was pressed deep into the darkness of a corner as though wishing he were a part of the wall itself—and he knew there was more to this story. "Or it could be everything." He mumbled into the rim of his glass.

Ryuunosuke Granger tipped his glass, very slightly, in the direction of the boy in the corner—ignoring the suspicious red eyes that seemed to bore into him questioningly even from so far away—and took a sip of his milk.

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'**;**.**;**' … _At a Different Table_

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"I wonder what they were talking about." Mr. Tate said leaning over the arm of his chair, watching as Voltaire walked stolidly away from an unreadable Stanley Dickenson.

"Probably Mr.—ah, _Lord_—Hiwatari's grandson again." Judy answered from a nearby loveseat, gazing at the dark brooding figure which was Kai in a far corner.

"I don't understand why this subject is becoming such a prominent matter in this meeting." Came a voice from behind Ms. Tate. "Surely there are more important things to discuss; the boy is after all, a _Hiwatari_."

Mr. and Ms. Tate both twisted around in their seats. The woman standing behind them had bright orange-red hair, tightly coiffed on the back of her head and jade green eyes over high cheekbones glistening with quiet intelligence behind a pair of large rimmed, half moon glasses. At the moment, her thin face was set into a dark contemplating expression: perfectly trimmed eyebrows drawn down and painted lips pressed tight together. Alex would have put her age at somewhere in her early forties. Something about her look—was it the freckles, or her long lab coat?—seemed familiar to Mr. Tate.

Judy smiled. "Ah, allow me to introduce the assistant manager of my team: Ms. Deidre Foster. Ms. Foster, this is Alex Tate, he's a delegate for the Bladebreakers." Seeing Alex's confused expression, Judy clarified. "Ms. Foster is the mother of Emily Foster, our star technician and tennis player."

Mr. Tate 'ahhed' in understanding. Deidre seated herself comfortably next to Judy and after a few introductions and pleasantries he brought the conversation back to where it had originally been. "What does the boy's name have to do with anything?"

Ms. Foster looked at him in mild surprise, and Mr. Tate noticed with some disapproval, a little reproof. "You don't know?" She asked, raising a perfect eyebrow.

Mr. Tate frowned "Enlighten me."

"The Hiwatari name is infamous for two reasons." She stated in a didactic tone that grated on Alex's nerves. "First, is their seemingly inexhaustible amount of power and money which fell into their possession under mysterious and shady circumstances. Second, is their rather bloody history."

"Blood_h_y 'ist_h_ory?" A new voice asked and a young woman with long, dark forest green hair styled into soft waves strode over to stand by Mr. Tate's chair. She threw the group a bright smile. "Joséphin Marselis. But_h_ you may call me Fifi." She said by way of introduction, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I am ze mana_hj_er of ze Majesti_ques_."

_'The manager of the Majestics'_ Mr. Tate nodded in understanding; that would explain her French accent. Alex, Judy and Deidre likewise introduced themselves and soon Mrs. Marselis had joined the group, pulling up a nearby chair. She looked to Ms. Foster, bidding her to continue

"You really don't know the story do you?" Deidre intoned, regarding those around her over her glasses. "The Hiwatari name is quite infamous, I am surprised."

"Deidre, if you would elaborate, please." Judy's voice held just the right amount of criticism and impatience; Mr. Tate found himself suppressing a smile. Judy's assertive attitude was a handy thing—when it wasn't directed at him. Deidre sighed, but moved quickly into her tale:

"There is much history to be found behind the Hiwatari name. Many of the line had great reputations in their own time: as magicians, miraculous doctors and even musicians. But as famous as their prodigal abilities was their tendency to madness: following the magician were tales of those who disappeared on his stage, never returning. Those cured by the doctor would later fall victim to strange, inexplicable illnesses, ones unheard of in that era. And though the musician's talent was renowned, he only ever played arias of death, chaos and the Devil's Vocation; they said, his spectators, that his insanity grew as he played: ever increasing, ever calling to the darkness within them all."

She spoke with barely restrained vigor that had previously been lacking from her words. Alex could feel the emotion and passion behind her words; whatever was driving this woman to find out so much about the Hiwatari family obviously had great meaning to her. Mr. Tate couldn't help the uneasy tingle that raced down his spin as she spoke: _'madness'_, she had said. He stole a glance at Voltaire, who was lightly tasting a blood red drink while calmly exchanging quiet words with Boris. He looked to be the perfect example of culture and grace; but Mr. Tate only too clearly remembered the look in his eyes not too long ago, the look of bloodlust, directed at the man's own Grandson.

_Were they all mad?_

But Ms. Foster was continuing her explanation and Mr. Tate tuned his thoughts out, focusing in on the words.

"There were even hints that centuries ago, during the feudal area in Japan, the Hiwataris were a great clan. Supposedly, there was a time when nearly all of Japan was under the rule of their Dynast King: the head of the Hiwatari clan. The Hiwatari name was presumably a name that carried great power, possibly similar to that of the Kinomiya name…"

"Hold on," Alex leaned forward, interrupting. Ms. Foster turned her head to meet his eyes, "I've heard that name before…" Mr. Tate paused. Where _had _he heard that name before?

Deidre smiled, a wry quirking of her lips, "Yes, you probably have. Kinomiya is the maiden name of Tyson Granger's deceased mother."

Alex leaned back, a frown tugging on his features; he did not understand the significance of that statement. But Judy's eyes lit up and she looked quickly to her assistant. "That is the name of the clan which carried the Dragoon, isn't it?"

Mr. Foster nodded. "Yes, it is, as Kon is to the White Tiger, and…Mizuhara is to the Great Turtle." At this she paused and all eyes turned to Alex, who had suddenly froze. Judy seemed to recognize this look and she took a breath to intervene, but stopped when Alex raised a hand

"_Mizuhara_" Even the name sounded foreign on his tongue. "Is the name of my father."

"And yours," Deidre pushed. Alex's eyes shot to her, and she shifted as the once warm, light hearted, dark eyes seemed to harden to ice as they stared through her.

"I have not been a Mizuhara for many years." Mr. Tate tried to exert as much force as he could into his words, attempting to push the point that the topic was closed. It seemed to work, since no one appeared inclined to ask him anything more. Alex sighed and looked to Judy who sent him a comforting smile. He instinctively relaxed enough to send her a small tired twitch of his lips, she was the only one who knew the true story of his father and he felt grateful that she didn't blame him for his rudeness… It really was a shame that things between them hadn't worked out…

"Yes, well," Ms. Foster's voice cut through his voice and she coughed, trying to either return the atmosphere to normal, or return the group's attention back to her. "At any rate, it was especially during the feudal times that the four sacred beasts were revered. The families that housed them would have been instantly venerated, viewed as edifying vessels of the Gods."

Alex thought about this. He remembered his father telling him something about a sacred beast; he had brushed off as nonsense when he had been young. But now he wondered: how had Max received his bitbeast? As far as Alex knew, Max had just shown up with it one day. Not one to avidly follow the sport, Mr. Tate had just assumed Max had bought the thing in a store… but was there more to it?

"So ze 'iwatari name 'eld ze Phoenix?" Mrs. Marselis spoke up for the first time.

"Well…" Deidre seemed to falter, suddenly unusually unsure of herself. Up to this point she had spoken with much confidence. Mr. Tate looked up. "Oddly enough, the first time the Phoenix has emerged, for centuries, from any family, is with that boy." She jerked her head at Kai and Alex couldn't help but notice how she avoided saying his name. Quite a few people, it appeared, did not like the stoic young man. "My research however shows it is possible that the last time the Phoenix emerged was during the feudal era. During a time when war ravaged the land between the North and South, it was said that the young prince of the Dynast King used a Phoenix to subdue a great beast, costing him his own life but drastically changing the course of history and that war. Sacred beasts only travel through direct bloodlines, therefore I believe that it was the Hiwatari clan that once ruled Japan: a once glorious Dynasty that fell into ruin when its very leaders plunged into selfish, immoral pursuits … But all this is mere supposition, only rumors exist of such a time, such a Dynasty…Scientists are only now beginning to accept the existence of Bitbeasts as a recent phenomenon, they will never even consider that such an oversight has existed for many millennia…it cannot even be suggested as fact to any respectable board…" She hesitated.

There was some latent quality in Deidre's voice, some bitterness, that had Alex wondering if she herself had been the one trying to get this 'Dynasty' idea accepted as truth.

"But that is another topic altogether." She moved on, acting as though she had never stopped. "What we are interested in here is recent history. Well, to begin with, it is probably prudent to note that the name Hiwatari was not passed down through Voltaire's father." She stopped again.

"Oh?" Alex prodded impatiently.

"Voltaire Hiwatari is the son of Nicolai Zolnerowich and Shiori Hiwatari." She paused dramatically, as though these names should mean something, an effort that was completely lost on Mr. Tate.

"So he took his mother's name, why?…" Alex mused, but then a thought struck him. "But that name, Voltaire, is not Japanese or Russian."

Deidre shook her head, sighing with exasperation, he had completely overlooked the point she had been trying to make. "No, it is not, it's French. But I don't know the significance of that; it could be that his parents just preferred exotic names."

"Perhaps." Somehow Alex felt that there was more to it than that. "But as you were saying…"

"Yes, as I was saying: at any rate, while the Hiwatari name was renowned for its history of mad geniuses, Zolnerowich was known for its connection to the underground Russian mafia. Their union was a perfectly planned strike at the Russian government. Perhaps separated, the weak law enforcement could have hoped to keep them suppressed, but once the two families declared their partnership they stood no chance. Zolnerowich gained unofficial power over all of Russia."

"No one stopped him?" Alex asked in disbelief.

"Who would dare?" Ms. Foster regarded him over her glasses as though his question was redundant. "You must remember, they lived during the Tsarist regime. Name was everything, and the weight of the Hiwatari name was huge in the upper class, not to mention their bank accounts certainly weren't wanting. Moreover, the mafia was everywhere… still is: in the government, in the police, in the slums… not an ounce of incriminating evidence would ever be allowed to leak far enough to cause an arrest; it didn't matter how many lives had to be snuffed to keep their illegal operations quiet. It is well known that Zolnerowich had enough power to not only crush you, but leave you homeless, jobless, penniless, without a family or even a name… and that was if he was merciful enough to let you live. He had his dirty hands into everything: drugs, blood money, sex slaves... The thought of Hiwatari's power paired with Zolnerowich's _morals_…"

"Az int_h_eresting az zis iz, could I ask what ze point iz?" Mrs. Marselis soft voice filled the uncomfortable silence that had remained after Ms. Foster's disturbing words.

"Yes," Deidre visibly pulled herself together; leaned back in her chair "Well, this was in the time of Zolnerowich. When Voltaire came into the public eye he was an ambitious youth in his early twenties; strong and driven he was clearly meant to follow in his father's footsteps… but one day, just like that, Zolnerowich disappeared. And Voltaire, who had coincidentally just recently hit the age of patrimony, inherited his money, his estates, his business, his power; everything."

Alex caught the hidden insinuation and his eyes widened. "You don't mean that he killed his own—"

"Not killed." Ms. Foster corrected, very clearly enunciating her words. "I never _said_ killed. The official story is that Nicolai Zolnerowich fell into the Izh River and drowned… ironic that he should have fallen into that river, when the neighboring city of Izhevsk was his main supplier of weaponry…"

The question, to Mr. Tate was what the _unofficial_ story was? It seemed that Ms. Foster was purposefully putting emphasis on how coincidental Zolnerowich's death was; as though she herself didn't not believe that it was an accident, but was… what? Afraid to say it? Or bitter, that no one else believed Zolnerowich's death was no mere drunken mishap.

"It was widely known that Nicolai was a violent man." Ms. Foster continued on a seemingly unrelated strain. "On more than one occasion he had been seen striking an employee in an unpredictable bought of rage. In fact, Mrs. Hiwatari, formerly a prominent figure in society, all but disappeared after her marriage to Zolnerowich. Most assume he suppressed her, kept her at home, it was said that she was a beautiful woman… perhaps he was a jealous man… perhaps his natural distrust and paranoia made him fear she would betray him?" Deidre shrugged in an uncaring manner. "At any rate, I simply cannot imagine what it must have been like for a child to grow up in such an environment. After all, Voltaire was very quick to renounce his father's name; within the hour of his announced death Voltaire had abandoned the name 'Zolnerowich' for the more illustrious, but unconventional 'Hiwatari'."

Judy shook her head. "It is a truly pitiful story."

Alex leaned his elbow on the armrest and placed the knuckle of his index finger under his nose; his eyes took on a thoughtful look. _'Violence breeds violence…'_ He remembered Voltaire's trembling hands. But then he remembered his son's staunch defense of Kai…_ 'Perhaps it's not too late for that boy… If someone reaches him in time.'_

"I sympathize, I sincerely do," continued Mrs. Tate. "But as the history progresses further, it becomes quite difficult to waste any compassion on a _Hiwatari_." She spat the name out like poison.

"Why?" Alex asked, turning back to the conversation.

"A few years after Nicolai's death, Voltaire married Nadya Vladmirovna. Not long after their nuptials, strange inexplicable deaths began to hit the family. One after another, aunts, uncles, second cousins… and basically anyone with an ounce of Hiwatari blood in them were hit with terrible diseases, or encountered sudden, tragic meetings with speeding trains… It took a long time to connect the murders as they happened over many years: more than two decades. But when they finally were connected, Voltaire and Nadya were put into a protection program. Their son would have joined them, but he had already fled the country, moved south—to Malaysia, or China. Since the Zolnerowich family was not touched, it was assumed that the killer was either committing hate crimes, or that he was after the Hiwatari fortune.

"But then a connection was made… to Voltaire himself…" Ms. Foster's voice trailed off and her eyes were far away, as though seeing something that wasn't there, or recalling some long buried past. Deidre shook herself. "Some of the victims were linked to an underground mob group under Petrograd dealing in marijuana, cocaine, heroin… and illegal weapons from across the globe: rifles, submachine guns, automatic AK-47s, illegal 9mm Cobray M-11 assault pistols, Bryco .380 pistols and even homemade guns. In a raid of their underground base practically, everything under the sun was found, even small supplies of mustard and chlorine gas—vintage, World War I stuff; but that was not even the main supplier, only a subsidiary to the main stream, one of many. It was impossible to know exactly how deep the levels went, did they deal in bio-weapons? Nukes? Was there an end to it? But that wasn't the point." Suddenly Ms. Foster's eyes took on a hardened look and she stared straight at each one of her audience, shifting her eyes then locking onto another's. As Alex's own eyes were caught in that ardent gaze he was taken aback by the sheer anger in the woman's eyes.

"The clincher was that this base was in direct competition with ones Zolnerowich allegedly controlled. And it was _run _by a man named Ignatius Rigel Aldebaran… _Hiwatari_." Ms. Foster paused to let this sink in. "So you see, that _bastard_." She sent a vicious look in Voltaire's direction. "Took over his father's disgusting trade and in his own _self-absorbed_, _self-seeking_, _egotistical_ interest he decided it would be a good idea to off the rest of his family so he could get his greedy little hands on more money… no matter what the cost." Her voice trailed away at the end and her head fell, as though all the energy had suddenly left her.

"Deidre…" Judy breathed, speaking softly in consideration for her friend's emotional outburst. "How… how do you know all this?"

Ms. Foster looked up, just a little. "You want to know?" She gave a dry, humorless laugh, then her head rose and looked Judy full on. "Before I came to work for the American Beyblade Institute I worked as an internationally based, federal forensics officer. My partner and I, we worked anywhere and everywhere we were needed, be it a local crime spree in New York… or serial killer in Russia." At this, everyone's eyes widened in realization. Deidre nodded, suddenly looking very old.

"Yes, I was on the forensics team that investigated the murders all those years ago. I saw the grisly mutilations, the torn flesh: bodies strewn across the ground in a macabre painting of a sociopath, turning the ground red as the last drops of their life essence spilled from their cold, dead, bodies…" She paused, then switched her gaze to look past the group, into the distance. "And I saw the body of my partner, as he lay dying, as he took his last breath… wasted it on a _Hiwatari_." Again, she spat the name out. "As he died he told me of the base camp, the information he had spent months undercover trying to reveal—to save lives—he said… but it didn't save lives… it took his… And for what? After all we went through and he still didn't manage to nail that sick pig!" In a burst of helpless rage, she beat her fist down on the chair, then threw herself to her feet and swung away, so her back faced the others.

Silence fell, with only the harsh sounds of Ms. Foster's breathing cutting through the air. Eventually, the sound slowed and Ms. Foster seemed to grow as she straightened, schooling her countenance back into that aloof, condescending personality.

"You know what the funny thing is?" Her voice was tight, controlled, she turned and Alex saw a bitter smile twisting her features. "One of the deaths we investigated was that of Nadya Hiwatari herself. Her body was never recovered… after one year she was presumed dead. Now imagine; if she were to be alive, after all these years… Then how many more of that damn family are still alive? How many more faked deaths were there? ...To think, my partner could have died for nothing." And with a low, chilling, contemptuous laugh, she walked away.

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**_End Chapter Twenty-One_…**

**… _To Be Continued_**

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AH! TOO. MANY. PLOTLINES! Kai, Tyson, Hilary, Max, Mr. and Mrs. Tate, Rei, Tala, Boris, Voltaire, Lee and now Ms. Foster of all people!...Garg… I need an editor, oie… Someone has to stop me before I create yet ANOTHER plotline…

Oh and does anyone remember why the town _Izhevsk_ is an important point? (evil grin)

**Irishpotatoes:** Hey! Thanks for reviewing! It's good to hear that you think everyone's more or less in character. I wanted to make them a little different while not going to far from the anime (like Tala, for example, I'm not sure if the anime ever had him show a mischievous side, but I thought it would nice if he was like that, to contrast Kai's own character. Also, Kai, in the anime, was already grown up and the entire process which made him that way was all in the past, you know what I mean? So I'm trying to kinda show what he was like before he was all stoic and reserved, and how he changed…). And, concerning the plot, I'm curious now, just for fun, what do you think will happen next? :)

**Brianne:** Wow, you've read this story that many times? :D Thanks so much for all your comments! I have to say, I was going to wait until Friday to post this, but your review pushed me to get this up today, so yeah! Thanks again!

**I just realized I forgot to thank you reviewers in the last chapter! I'm sorry! So, let me say thanks to everyone who reviewed the last two chapters: terracannon876, kavbj, Canyx, Miako6, Samu, d1bontemp, Nordwind, Raykou-Kun, fawks136, lady KCassandra, BloodRedViolet, phoenix-falling, kissedbykai, UNpReDiCtAbLE lIfE, FlamingIce94, Nameless Little Girl, bladz-liska, Invader Sweeney, "kR!t#Y", Yuliya, wolf's lament, Irishpotatoes, dark-anime-lover2, grimnessreaper and Brianne!**

**Adio!**


	25. Tolerance

**Chapter 22! Hello all! And yes! I have officially relocated for the summer, so this is Sholay, sending greetings from Boston. Hiya! (I was in Montréal for awhile too, where I had practically no access to the internet, which explains this late update…)**

AHH!! (Screams loudly, jumping up and down) IT'S BEEN A **YEAR**! AN ENTIRE YEAR! WHOOOHOO! Let's celebrate an entire YEAR of this fanfiction's existence. With 342 reviews, 12395 hits, 52 favorites and 47 story alerts this story has far surpassed ANYTHING I had EVER envisioned for it. Thank you ALL! As a special, one-year present to you all, I made this chapter extra-super long, the longest chapter THUS FAR! AND! I have an announcement to make! See the end of the chapter of details!! Oh and thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who's followed this story since its conception and all who've jumped in somewhere in between. You are all wonderful, amazing, lovely people! Thank you!

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**Special Thanks **to **Canyx **who kindly offered to make a **Fanart**For this fic! AND! She finished in record time! Thanks so much Canyx, you're picture is incredibly awesome! Everyone should check out this amazing art, you can find it at: http: / / canyx. deviantart. com/art/Dynasty-of-the-Sun-84476065 … (without the spaces) If that doesn't work, go to my profile page, where you'll find the link to my deviantart page. If you click on that, you'll find Canyx's work in my favourites. You'll be missing out if you don't!

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**Disclaimer:** (sigh) You know, when they said you had to do these at the beginning of every chapter I don't think they realized how utterly crushing it is for the author. Do you know how permanently traumatizing it can be to have to continuously disclaim, over and over, the one object of your fascination? It's terrible, terrible I tell you! (runs out of the room dramatically)

Enjoy!

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

_After the world championships in Russia, Kai just wanted to vanish. Then one day, inevitably, Kai is drawn back and ensnared in an intricate web of magic and legends; wrought by forsaken history and controlled by none other than Voltaire. _

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_"Of course "behaviourism" works. So does torture."_

—W. H. Auden (1907-1973)

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**Chapter 22:** **_Tolerance_**

Hilary was, by nature and by choice, a logical human being. She enjoyed routine— had perfected the skill of planning to an art form. Everything had a time and place, from her study schedule to her social life; from the time she took to make her hair to the route she took to school (which varied on certain days depending on her estimates of traffic and weather conditions).

Everything Hilary did had an ulterior purpose. Her chosen extracurriculars—on one side: dance, taekwondo and soccer; and on the other: math team, piano class and debate club—gave her the greatest diversity of skills—both solo and team-oriented, to show her dedication as well as her ability to work in groups—while also providing the added benefit of self-defence training and mental growth.

Even her friends were selectively picked. When she hung out with girls, they were always just as goal-oriented and driven as she was, they did not gossip and chatter about inane things such as make-up or boys, instead they talked about organizing volunteer programs to help the unfortunate or challenged each other to find the most efficient path toward their ideal job.

Hilary knew hers. She was proud to tell people that she hoped to one day become a world credited gynaecologist. It got the most interesting reactions from people. Most children her age had not even chosen an area of study yet, let alone narrowed down their focus to such a specific—and unconventional occupation. But Hilary was focused. And she was serious. She volunteered four hours a week at the hospital, and was currently in the top 5 percentile of her class.

Hilary had a plan, and her plans never failed. She would finish grade school with top marks, take the SATs and hopefully get admitted into a good university in the United States. From there she would attend medical school in either Harvard or Johns Hopkins where she would study to become a women's doctor. Hilary had very strong views on the necessity of strong, independent women in the field of medicine, and how gynaecology in particular has long been stunted due to stupid male insecurities and inhibitions on women's rights, and how; even today, women are forced to undergo dangerous and unhealthy illegal procedures for abortion that should not-…

But really, that was another discussion altogether.

The point was that Hilary had purpose and vision. She knew exactly where she was going in life and how she was going to get there. She was going to make a significant difference in the world, and that, above all, made her happy, really. Really.

… It did!

Hilary groaned and leaned back in her seat, passing a hand over her eyes. It was this dratted trip! It was messing with her mind in ways she hadn't expected. Though she was loathed to say it, Hilary had to admit that she was very unused to dealing with people outside of her set periphery. People like Tyson, she avoided like the plague; and senseless sports like Beyblade, she was more likely to make fun of than actively _participate _in.

Dratted math! Hilary dropped her head down and buried it in her hands. If only she had spent more time studying those stupid trigonometric identities, she wouldn't have gotten that 70—her lowest mark _ever,_ the look her parents had given her _still_ made her want to sink into the ground—in her midterm, dropping her A average in the class down to a B… If only she'd managed just a few marks higher, she wouldn't be here right now, tutoring Tyson, _Tyson _of all people, and getting all these confusing thoughts she was having now…

See, the thing was, Hilary was slowly, very slowly, beginning to—God forbid!—enjoy herself.

It was inconceivable!

She knew that what these people did—choosing to pursue their athletic dreams in complete disregard to their education—was wrong. Fundamentally wrong. It was one of the complete truths that she'd carried over since early childhood. Athletes were transient, famous for only their one shot at the gold then doomed to spend the rest of their lives in helpless ignominy, living mediocre lives in the attic's of their aging parent's house, unable to support themselves, let alone their family.

She knew Tyson's goal was to become some world famous Beyblader or something, and it vexed her. A job like that had no substance! Sure, maybe he'd make it big, live the high life for a few years or so, but what happened when he got older? When he wasn't so good with his spinning top anymore; or maybe, this silly fad would run its course and Tyson would find himself the lone star in a sport no one played anymore.

What happened then?

Tyson would be left with no education, no training, no fallback, nothing.

How could he not see that?!

It infuriated Hilary to no end how thick some of these athletes were.

…And yet… And yet…

…And yet, Hilary had never experienced such satisfaction as when she'd seen the look on Tyson's face after she'd stuck gum in his hair. She had never experienced such accepting, open people as when she'd met Rei and Max. And she'd never realized girls could co-exist together without actively competing… Until she'd met Mariah and Emily. Never before had she just let go and laughed, without wondering in the back of her mind if she would have to hide parts of her personality from these people around her, whether they would scorn her if she were too corny, too sarcastic, or not smart enough. With these people she _lived _and experienced life in a way she had never done before. It was exhilarating, enthralling. Like some intoxicating drink she'd tasted the poisoned apple and could never return now to her normal life of isolation and simplicity.

And it baffled her how Tyson—a boy she used to look down on, someone she thought would get nowhere in life— would know such amazing people, have such an enriching and fulfilling life. All without any apparent effort on his part.

Hilary was jealous. It was spiteful and juvenile and Hilary knew that. But she didn't care.

Why was it that slacker people like Tyson always got everything in life, while she could work like a dog her whole life and feel like she has nothing?

She had no friends, no people who would have her back no matter what she did, no one who actually cared about her, her life and her problems and with whom she shared everything. She wondered if the fault was in her. She could not blame her parents in good conscience, because she knew well that they were good people, everything they did was so that she would have a good life.

Why should she want friends and relations anyway? She would have a future, a good one, which is probably more than anyone here could hope for.

She did not care. She did not!

She did not need people like Rei and Max, who listened to her problems, no matter silly, and worried for her, giving her sensible advice. She did not need Mariah and Emily, with whom she could gossip harmlessly and laugh over nonsense. She definitely did not need Tyson! And she did not need…

She didn't need…

A pair of blood red eyes flashed before her closed eyes, causing a cold, not thoroughly unpleasant, tingle to run down her back and arms before settling in her heart like a foreign object. Her breath caught involuntarily, and against her clammy palms she felt her cheeks flush.

Now, there is something to be said about Hilary Tatibana. She is a straightforward, logical, serious girl who is very focused on her schoolwork and grades.

She does not stand for pointless activity and certainly she's never had a boy-crazed conversation in her life.

And definitely, _definitely_, Hilary Tatibana does not believe in love at first sight.

Love was something that grew over time. It takes time and effort to flourish and grow into something beautiful. Hilary believed in friendship, which would eventually turn into love. Lust and infatuation were not things she took stock in since they were fleeting and baseless. With these thoughts in mind, Hilary could officially say that she'd never had a crush on a boy. Sure, she could appreciate good looks… Rei and Tala were definitely not lacking in that area, and she could understand brains—Kenny was unparalleled here—and sensitivity—Max's area for sure. But pure, uncontrollable, falling head-over-heels stuff that one reads about in trashy romance novels… No, she did not believe in that.

Hilary did not believe in love at first sight, and she had never had a crush on a boy—certainly not on one she didn't even know!

The image of blood red eyes flashed in her vision again and this time she got a glimpse of pale, powerful features and messy gray-blue hair.

Suddenly her thoughts had strayed completely, and she no longer remembered what she'd been thinking about before.

She had known Kai Hiwatari the moment he'd walked into the room.

From the moment Tyson and Max mentioned him, Hilary had been instantly curious—really, anyone who didn't get along with Tyson was in her good books. Then when she'd learned about his past history, she had discovered his interesting character. She had passed over some of the less desirable things said about him—from Tyson they were meaningless anyway, and besides weren't there two sides to every story? The things Hilary focused on were the facts. Kai was a leader, he was self-sufficient, he had coached and managed a team at the age of 14. He could live alone in a foreign country at the age of 15. These were facts, and they were impressive facts.

Hilary had already been predisposed toward his character. She liked how he sounded: strong, independent, intelligent, just the kind of person she could respect. There was of course, the small fault that he was a Beyblader… but hey, no one was perfect.

Hilary had wondered if she would recognize Kai on sight. Probably not, she'd thought, as the thought was a little fantastical. But as she continued to hear more and more about him, Hilary had to admit that her eagerness to meet him grew as well. She feared that she was expecting too much from him, that he, like many, many things in the past, would fall short of her expectations.

But then, she had seen him.

Her first impression had been of annoyance: who was this person, arriving late and interrupting an important meeting was highly rude behaviour, and she did not approve. But then Mr. Dickenson had halted, mid-sentence, for the arrival of this unknown. And everyone had stopped to wait. It was at that moment that Hilary realized that it wasn't this person who was arriving late, rather it was the _meeting _which was waiting for him to arrive.

What kind of a person had such power?

When Kai entered the room, there was no hesitancy about his step. No self-consciousness common to those who had done something wrong. No, Kai's stride was long and purposeful, his feet moving with a lightness that surprised Hilary. Kai's very body exuded confidence and power. There was a way which he held his shoulders that suggested authority and his pin straight posture was something Hilary herself couldn't pull-off. The very doors to the room had parted with ease before his graceful form and Hilary herself remembered how awkward and heavy the thick wooden doors had seemed to her, as she had haltingly and embarrassingly shoved against them just enough to allow her frame.

His clothes themselves were nothing remarkable—simple jeans and sleeveless shirt. But on him they were unreasonable attractive: revealing in a way that wasn't showy, his strong, lean frame. He was lithe, like a tiger or cheetah, with—obvious but not obscene—muscles that rolled powerfully beneath his clothes as he moved. A pure white scarf was tied around his neck—with ends picking up the moving air he himself generated as he walked and fluttering dramatically behind him. It occurred to Hilary that the very though of tying a scarf in this manner would have appeared ridiculous to her in another circumstance, except here. Except on him.

And then, Hilary had seen his face.

Hilary supposed that it was to Kai Hiwatari's credit that his body was so… fascinating… that she hadn't even thought to look at his face before then. But once she had, she couldn't draw her eyes away.

Kai had the face of a noble: fine and pale, with high cheekbones and long angular nose. His thin, sculpted eyebrows were pulled down in a perpetual frown—which, in her wise opinion, did not take away from his look at all—and thin, pale lips were set into a grim, serious line.

And his eyes! Shimmering red, like the darkest depths of the purest red diamond… Unbelievable; there were no words to describe his eyes, nor was there any way Hilary could explain how her heart and breath had stopped completely when his piercing gaze had passed over her. The barest of miniscule glances in her direction and she'd lost her breath. What would happen if, when, he actually talked _to _her?

There was something about the intensity of Kai's features that had sent a tingle down Hilary's spine. He was focused and powerful in a 'take-no-nonsense' type of way that Hilary couldn't help but be drawn to.

His hair was set in a messy disarray of spikes which, astonishingly, worked perfectly with his look. Hilary had no idea if that dual-shaded light blue-dark blue hair colour was his natural hair… But somehow Kai did not strike Hilary as the type of boy who would be into things like hair colour. But then again, he did have those blue triangles painted… or was it a tattooed?... on his face. Personally, Hilary didn't much approve of tattooing, and when she'd first seen the four triangles slashed across his face, she had been instantly dismayed. What a terrible way to ruin such a handsome face… But really, it was only a physical flaw… and besides, the marks did accentuate the contours of his cheeks rather nicely… so it wasn't all _that _bad…

Oh, and when Kai had _spoken_…

His voice, low and soft with a sweet dulcet intonation, like rolling honey, had a commanding tone that immediately grabbed the attention of the listener. He had the natural skill of not having to raise his voice to get the attention of a room, and he never misspoke—every word deliberate and well thought out. Hilary knew from personal experience that developing such patience and self-awareness, not to mention control, took time, effort and a great deal of objectiveness of the self.

Listening to him talk, Hilary was quietly impressed at the lack of obvious accent on his English words. She had then remembered how Kai had been the Captain of the Japanese team, meaning he had to speak Japanese with some fluency as well. More than that, if he had really spent the year in Russia, he would know Russian too. It spoke wonders to the intelligence of a person if they could speak multiple languages.

Control, patience… confidence, intelligence… power… and not to mention the good looks to wrap up the entire package…

Hilary was not one to indulge in infatuation.

But she was a teenage girl, and still couldn't help but secretly remember her dreams of the knight in shinning armour that would one day come and sweep her off her feet.

Hilary closed her eyes, and behind her eyelids danced the figure of a young man with a dulcet voice and keen, red eyes…

* * *

'**;**.**;**' … _On the other side of the room…_

* * *

"But _Reeeeeiiii_ we have to find out what he's hiding from us!"

"Tyson," the older boy sighed. "Look, what do you think is going to happen if we crowd Kai and demand he gives us answers?"

"We'll find out why he left us and spent the year in Russia… without even telling us! He made us worry for nothing! And what WAS that he was doing in that room: bowing to Voltaire! I shouldn't have let you hold me back then, and I'm not gonna let you do it now, so let me go!" The incensed boy raged, trying to push past Rei.

"No, Tyson" Rei rolled his eyes and grabbed Tyson's shoulder, spinning him around in a single, swift motion. "We'll alienate him, make him shut down. You know he hardly ever opens up; he's only done it once or twice, and that was when he was off guard and alone with us. If you confront him now—in front of everyone—he'll only get angry. We won't get any answers and he'll block us out completely. It took us a year of trying before he even gave us an inch. That was a year ago. Now all that progress is probably gone after everything that's happened. He spent the year _alone, _Tyson, in _Russia, _do you get that? Russia! We're lucky that Boris didn't find him and lock him back up in that damnable Abbey 'cause who knows what would've happened then! Kai had no money to come back and _we didn't even think twice before leaving him. _What kind of an impression do you think that left on him?" The guilt shone clear in Rei's amber eyes and resulting shame flickered in Tyson's own dejected gaze. But Rei wasn't done. "Your recklessness now could cost us everything; and with this tournament approaching do you really want him, as a captain or even a friend, acting as bad as—or worse—than he did two years ago?"

"…No" Tyson growled, tugging his arm free from Rei's restraining hand. He glared at Kai's brooding figure in the corner. "But how do we know he'll stick around long enough for us to get some answers? He might just go off and disappear again, and then your little 'ring-around-the-rosy' woulda been pointless, 'cause he'd be gone, and then we really WON'T know anything… Ever!"

"Rei's right Tyson." Max said softly, also watching the faraway figure of his former Captain, except his eyes were sad. "We can't make a big deal out of this here. I mean, we completely forgot about him for a year…—"

"We did not…!" Tyson protested, but so softly his voice was barely heard and Max continued without pausing.

"—we owe him at least the chance to explain himself when he wants…"

"But what if he NEVER tells us?" Tyson shot back, spreading his hands for emphasis.

"If he doesn't, then, well…" Max picked at the fingerless gloves on his own hands thoughtfully for a second before raising his head confidently. "We'll have to deal with it… We'll just make sure that it doesn't happen again." Max answered, sounding very sure of himself.

"Huhn…" Rei made a non-committal sound in response, shooting a narrow look at Max. He didn't agree with Max, he did want an explanation from Kai; it just didn't have to be right now. Rei knew that Max didn't have any problems with letting bygones be bygones, but to Rei, bygones were never _gone_; they stuck around like bloodsucking leeches: breaking friendships and letting hate and anger fester and rot. It had happened many times in Rei's life already, he did not want it to happen again. "Well, we'll see what happens. And anyway, we know that Kai pretty much isn't going anywhere, for now, at least."

"How?" Tyson challenged.

"Have you ever known Kai to run away from anything at all Bey-ish?" Rei asked, raising one long dark eyebrow, but when Tyson immediately began to answer he instantly added "And not come back?"

Tyson was silent, Max smiled and Rei nodded.

"Ok, fine." Tyson, sucking in a cheek, relented. He turned to stare at Kai. "But the second this thing is over, all bets are off."

Max looked like he was going to protest, but Rei, noticing something, quickly intervened.

"Hey, now what is _he _doing?"

Max and Tyson both turned to look, and watched as Boris, dark and imposing, stealthily glided over to the spot where their Captain was standing. Kai, still deep in thought, didn't seem to have noticed Boris' nearing proximity. Tyson clenched his fists.

"Whatever it is, it's no good, come on!"

And the three boys hurried off toward Kai, ignoring the questioning calls from a certain bespectacled, mousy haired boy.

* * *

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* * *

Lunch is taking too long.

I let my eyes slip to the side where they rest on a lone metal door near me.

_'The exit is right there, a mere two steps would—'_

A cold, hard hand seizes me by the upper arm.

I jerk away, but the thick hand tightens, grip into a bruising grip, short, ragged nails digging into my arms, and yanks me back. I stumble, the cold rush of realized danger gripping me, my teeth clench.

_'Who? What?'_

Completely taken off guard, my instincts take over. In a swift, unthinking motion, I swing around—penknife poised to attack—eyes flying up to meet those of my assailant—

"**_I_I** _Foolish_ _boy, put that thing away. Come with me. Now.** I**_**I**"

I freeze, instinct failing before that familiar oily voice: thick and viscous, like fat dripping off a stuck pig.

_Boris._

A light flashes before my eyes, I blink, shake my head, look down. What is going on?

* * *

'**;**.**;**'_ Flash _'**;**.**;**'

* * *

_I shiver. I can't even feel the freezing metal in my hands, they are so numb. The tip drops, involuntarily, my hands give a nervous twitch and a loud explosion rings through the air. I jump. My aim is off. I tremble._

_Large, hard hands wrap around mine and I feel a breath of hot air on my ear. I shiver, despite the cold._

_"You hold it like this." The voice whispers in my ear, the hands tighten, pulling mine upward, holding them steady. My breathing shallows as another body presses flush against my back, a pair of arms overlaying my own, pushing my own arms into my sides. I feel trapped, caged. "You don't want to let them get away, do you?"_

_This time it's his hands that make me pull the trigger. I try to brace myself, but the explosion is too loud, too sudden. I jump again, my weight falling completely on him for a split second before I jolt away. His low chuckle resonates through my mind and heart. _

_Dreading the result, I drag my eyes up to look at the target. My breath fails me and I stare._

_A hole is ripped through the target, spearing it dead centre._

_But I'm trembling worse than before_

* * *

'**;**.**;**'_ Flash _'**;**.**;**'

* * *

Vaguely, I feel someone trying to pull free the metal thing in my hand. _'No…'_ I shake my head, tightening my hold. _'I can't let go… I must hold it, hold it straight, or—'_

* * *

'**;**.**;**'_ Flash_ '**;**.**;**'

* * *

_I look upwards into his fluid, vulpine eyes. _

_"My Firebird. You have done well today."_

_I look down._

_"You did something none of those other weaklings could. You showed true power, you should be proud." A cold, hard hand touches my chin, urging it gently back up to meet those grey eyes. "You know I only choose the best to stay with me in my room, don't you?"_

_I swallow, but nod as best as I can with his hand holding me. I don't use my voice. I don't trust it._

_"To be the best you must learn from those who are better than you. Then you will gain power, and you desire power, don't you?"_

_I nod, again._

_"I can teach you," He stands tall, and like a holy priest reading the scriptures, he spreads his arms wide. "This Abbey teaches tolerance, we teach honesty, generosity and the sacrifice of the self…" Here his voice dips low, and he looks down at me with a frightening, intense look. "For the collective." He brings a hand up and cups my cheek. "With these things, you can truly being to understand the worth of strength, the weight of power. Only once you've humbled yourself, stripped away these petty layers." He makes a small motion at my shoulders, as though brushing off excess dirt. The tips of his fingers linger at the edge of one shoulder, then graze lightly over my upper arm. A sharp, unexplainable shiver tingles over my spine. Even through the coarse fabric of my uniform, I'm acutely aware of the coldness of his hand, and goosebumps form in the wake of his touch. "One you've rid yourself of your foolish rebelliousness, your selfish arrogance… Once you are bare, and pure… only then can you begin to build the foundations on which will form the basis of your future, your life."_

_"Yes, Director." There is a tone of wonder in my voice. As sudden as a light bulb turning on, I understand. All this time, I've been fighting it, fighting him, this place, everything. I thought it was wrong, I thought my own personal ideals, my view, was the correct one. The only one._

_But for all my fighting, I have only gotten beaten down. For my so called strength, I have received scorn, not the respect I believed I'd earned._

_No one else fought the Abbey like me. I thought they were all crazy, all fools…_

_And yet…_

_Who is the one unhappy?_

_Who is the one confused, when everything seems so clear?_

_Who fears the very shadows he walks in, paranoid because he is alone, a veritable rabbit in a world of hungry wolves?_

_Who fights so hard everyday, and gets nowhere?_

_Everyone else seems content… Everyone else is happy here in the Abbey…_

_Only I—… Just me… Only me…_

_How could everyone else be wrong, and I the only one right?_

_What if… What if **I** am the one who is wrong…?_

_He looks at me with an almost soft expression, and I feel an unfamiliar sensation growing in my chest. Filling it. _

_He puts his hand on my head and runs his fingers through my hair. His nails scratch lightly over my scalp and without thinking, I lean into the touch, my eyes falling halfway closed. It almost tickles, but not quite, the sensation causes another tingle to run down my spine, but this one is oddly pleasant. It feels so good, to be touched in a way that doesn't hurt… to be looked at in something that is not anger._

_I look up at him. He still has that expression on his face, it's almost a smile. His hand does not feel cold, not anymore. His eyes are liquid silver, glistening in the light._

_"Come with me." His voice is soft, like his eyes. Slowly, he draws his hand away, mid stroke, from my hair. I have to physically bite my lip to stop myself from protesting out loud. Even still, my head instinctively rises up a little with his hand. His lips quirk a little at the corner, but he says nothing. I was never so grateful for his silence. _

_He turns then, placing one hand on the doorknob._

_He goes in._

_There is barely a moment's hesitation before I follow._

* * *

'**;**.**;**'_ Flash _'**;**.**;**'

* * *

Hands, holding my arms, yanking me forward, pulling my arms behind my back. _'Do I… want? No… no… Not this…' _I struggle and something hits me over the head. Thoughts blur, I slump forward, the hands return, moving to my neck, taking my scarf off…

* * *

'**;**.**;**'_ Flash _'**;**.**;**'

* * *

_"YOU STUPID, IGNORANT, INGRATE! HOW DARE YOU DISOBEY ME!?" _

_I fall to my knees as the long, metal pole hits me over the back. My hands are on my head, clutching my skull protectively. I can't stifle the cry that escapes me._

_"WHAT WAS THAT?!" _

_I gasp and my hands fly to my mouth, I hear a clang as the pole is thrown aside. I spin around, scared, eyes wide._

**_"WHAT WAS THAT?!"_**_ He grabs me, pulls me into the air by the front of my shirt, shakes me. I stifle a sob, but shake my head back and forth, still covering my mouth._

_"SCREAMING?! CRYING?! YOU'RE A DISGRACE! YOU'RE **STUPID**! **WEAK**! **FOOL**! NOT WORTHY OF THE DIRT ON MY SHOES!" He throws me aside and I hit the wall hard. I scrunch up my eyes…no tears, no tears… please._

_"YOU THINK **THIS** IS POWER?" He gestures at me and I shake my head again. "POWER is SUCCESS, POWER is STRENGTH, POWER is SUBLIME! You are NONE of these! You are PATHETIC! MINDLESS! WEAK! You are NOTHING! You can't even take the punishment you **deserve**." His voice lowers drastically at the end, heavy with disgust… disappointment; and I bite my lip hard, screwing up my eyes and turning my face away in shame. _

_I can't help it, I can't breath, my back hurts, I'm scared… another sob, louder, escapes me._

_"YOU THINK THIS IS FEAR? YOU THINK THIS IS PAIN?" Once again he grabs me, pulling me bodily into the air and holding me dangling right before his eyes. I stop breathing completely as he stares straight at me, his eyes scouring holes through me._

_"Let me show you what **true** pain is!"_

* * *

'**;**.**;**'_ Flash _'**;**.**;**'

* * *

A sharp intake of breath between clenched teeth… Then my eyes open.

Blurry shapes, halos of light. I blink, then blink again.

Red… carpet… the ground? That can't be right; somehow I remember the floor being wood…

"**_I_I**_ So, Sleeping Beauty is awake? How nice for you to grace us with your consciousness, my dear Phoenix.** I**_**I**"

My head snaps up. Eyes narrowed, for some reason I'm finding it hard to focus, I raise a hand to rub my eyes—

—Only to realize that I can't move my arms.

"Boris." I growl.

The man before me laughs: low and cruel, the sound grates over my spine.

"**_I_I **_Took you long enough, boy. Look around; see what you've missed while you were daydreaming. **I**_**I**" He says in his oily, churlish, southern accented Russian.

Biting back my retort, I decide that it would be smarter to heed his suggestion. I look around, trying to be as unobvious as I can—I do not need him being smug on top of everything else.

I am in the conference room; alone, with Boris and his two lackeys. How I got there is an alarming blank in my mind… but I can't—I _cannot—_think about that now. The two guards have tied my hands behind my back—again I do not remember this happening… My knife is gone, my scarf and armguards too have disappeared. Unease settles like a heavy pit in my stomach… I do not like this, what do they want? They cannot be doing this, not here, not with everyone else is in the other room…

I tug one my arms, testing, then step lightly ahead and pull my upper body forward and sharply down. Surprised, one of the guards is pulled forward and nearly flips over my shoulder, but then the second guard comes out of nowhere and punches me hard in the stomach.

The breath rushes out of my lungs in a whoosh, I curl instinctively, but the guards yank me back up, causing my stomach muscles to forcefully unclench rather unpleasantly. The first guard, whom I had nearly thrown, mutters something crude then slaps me over the back of my head. Long bangs are thrown across my face and I let them hang, obscuring my eyes while I mentally yell at myself.

_'Idiot. This is your own fault. How could you let them take advantage of you like this?'_

I try to recall what had happened, when Boris first grabbed my arm. What happened? How? Again, my mind is drawing blanks, except that the alarm has passed and now displeased acrimony is setting in.

_'I remember seeing a flash of light, then those strange hallucinations…'_

I feel my eyes narrow.

_'This is **absurd**. Utter foolishness; I **will **find out what is causing this. It is unacceptable that I loose—even for a second—awareness of—'_

"**_I_I **_Well, as amusing as it is to watch you make a fool out of yourself, we have business to attend to. **I**_**I**" I look back up, only to see Boris slipping on a pair of metal plated, leather gloves. I stare. No, he can't possibly be doing what I think he's doing…

"_Boris._" I put as much emphasis in my tone as I can without yelling. "What is all this?" I speak deliberately in English, to emphasize where we currently are. "What are you do_— mph_" Suddenly a ball of material is shoved between my teeth. Before I can spit it out, another cloth is pulled over my mouth. I toss my head angrily, making it hard for the guard behind me to tie the knot. I feel my head connect with something hard. A badly stifled cry of pain accompanies a wet cracking sound behind me; I must have broken his nose. Good. _'How dare they muzzle me like some common animal?'_ But then someone grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks my head viciously backward.

I stiffen, my exposed neck straining in the uncomfortable position. My scalp, still stinging from the recent encounter with the guard's nasal bone, burns as my hair is non-too-gently ripped out by its roots. I grit my teeth, scowling as the cloth is pulled tight around my cheeks; a knot is tied at the base of my skull.

I growl, anger has replaced all unease now. Tensing the muscles in my shoulders I fix Boris with the worst glare I can manage and for a second I am sure he falters. But then that infuriating, smarmy smirk is back.

"**_I_I **_Now, now, my beautiful Phoenix, we can't have you making a racket; imagine what people would say. **I**_**I**

**_'I AM NOT YOURS!' _**Every last shred of control is lost as I attempt to scream these words at him. Only a muffled shout escapes the gag and in frustration I lunge forward, nearly breaking out of the guards' grasp. They manage to pull me back though and after a few hard punches I'm nearly double in their hold, gasping through the gag.

It was worth it though, to see, just for a second, that look of stark fear flash across his disgusting, sallow face.

"**_I_I **_You shouldn't have done that, boy. **I**_**I**" Boris is trying to regain his composure, tugging at his gloves as though to assure himself of his power over me. He looks furious.

_'Good. Now he knows how I feel.'_

"**_I_I **_I was going to go easy on you, considering how long it's been since we've last had this pleasure. But you, boy, just ruined that. **I**_**I**" Something in his tone, something implied, something unsaid, causes a tingle of uncertainty to run through me. I become still.

"**_I_I **_Memory or not, you couldn't have forgotten... Not this. **I**_**I**" His hand snaps out and grabs my chin. I freeze, the familiarity of this gesture too raw. He pulls my head up so that my eyes meet his own dusty grey ones. Something within them makes me try to recoil, but his grip tightens. I look away. He leans closer; I can feel his breath on my skin. "**_I_I **_Yes, you do remember, don't you? My touch; this feeling. You remember well, I can see it in your eyes. You like this.** I**_**I**" I feel the rough leather of gloved thumb scratching over my cheek, leaving trails of crawling skin in its wake. I force myself not to react. "**_I_I**_ I can make it feel good when you've pleased me… But you've been a bad boy; yes… a very bad boy, my **Firebird**. **I**_**I**"

_'No… NO.'_

**_'NO!'_**

Panic consumes me.

With strength born of desperation, I twist my head free of Boris' hand and tear away from the guards holding me.

I stumble at first, but when a hand comes out of nowhere, clawing at my back, I force myself to move. A guard throws himself at me but I leap to the side and run.

I am nearly there; the door is right before me. Hands tied, I have no idea how I will open it—short of running straight into it and hoping to God someone will hear me…

But in my panicked flight I neglect to see the stool obscuring the way in front of me.

My foot catches on unrelenting wood and with a muffled gasp, I fall—ankle rolling violently, tumbling, head over heels—to the ground. The stool is thrown to the side, crashing loudly against the wall.

Immediately, I try to rise to my feet, but the guards are upon me before I can even think. One brings his foot down on the back of my neck, driving my head into the ground as he tries to suffocate me with the carpet. Thinking quickly, I scissor my legs, managing to catch one of his feet and sweep it out from underneath him. The guard falls heavily, shaking the floor with his immense bulk.

Not wanting to give the second guard the same advantage over me, I quickly roll onto my back. The first guard is a few feet away, slowly pushing himself to his feet. His hood has fallen away, revealing a thick, face: sunken eyes and thin lips slashing a hard line across his, stony features and dark hair shaved close to his head in a buzz cut. The second guard looks momentarily stupefied, watching his buddy with a vacant, idiotic look on his face. His hood, too, is gone, revealing a weak, unremarkable face with watery blue eyes and faded blond hair.

I move fast, taking Blue Eyes' distraction to my advantage, throwing my feet back over my shoulder, I back-roll to me feet. My hands have not been idle this whole time, and by now I've managed to work enough slack into my ropes to uncross my wrists and work at the knots with my fingers. It is the work of mere seconds before the ropes fall away uselessly from my hands. The gag immediately follows, the rag around my mouth fluttering to the ground as I spit out the sodden material in my mouth, my lip curling with profound repugnance.

_'You would think they would have learned how to tie their knots better by now.'_

I stand tall then. And, with the same, disgusted look on my face, regard the foul men before me over one shoulder. Boris looks infuriated. Buzz Cut is slowly picking himself off the floor, he looks murderous. And Blue Eyes, still looks annoyingly vacant while he rubs the back of one hand across his face, smearing the blood running from what is definitely a broken nose.

For a moment we just stand there, me on one side, them on the other, like some cheap, classic gangster movie at its climax.

My eyes move past them, and land on the door right behind Boris' back. It had been my misfortune and bad strategy that put them between me and the only exit to the room.

There is only one thing to do, then. I frown, eyebrows drawing downward into an intense look as I focus only on them, everything else fades away. With slow, deliberate movements, I shift my weight to my right foot and, dragging the toe of my shoe across the plush carpet, pull my left foot back in a shallow arc until my feet are approximately shoulder-width apart. My knees bend. I raise my head but pull my hands up only halfway, leaving them uncurled, mockingly relaxed.

_'Well, come at me, then.'_

* * *

**¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤**

* * *

"Hil-ary-y-y!! Oh, HIL-ary-y-y! Earth to zombie girl! Come in zombie girl!"

Hilary suddenly became aware of a sharp, annoying sound near her ear. Blinking back into focus she was taken aback by seeing a hand snapping its fingers only centimetres from her nose.

"Hey!" Hilary instinctively recoiled and fell back against the couch. A chorus of laughter followed her action and Hilary looked up to see Mariah and Emily standing above her. Mariah pulled her hand away from Hilary's face. "Hey-y-y" She said again, but this time played along, sticking her lower lip out and crossing her arms in a mock-sulk.

"Alright, alright, no more making fun of little miss spacey here, got that Em? I don't know why you're always teasing her so much." Mariah sent a sly grin at Emily.

"Oh yes, of course, whatever was I thinking?" Emily put a hand to her forehead dramatically and fell onto the couch next to Hilary, acting her part even though everyone knew Mariah was the one teasing Hilary. "I don't know what got into me; one should never make fun of a girl with a crush after all." Here she elbowed a spluttering Hilary in the side a few times before grinning at Mariah. "Could turn dangerous."

"I—I! I do NOT have a crush!" Hilary cried, though the rising heat in her cheeks staunchly told otherwise.

"Su-u-ure you don't. And you haven't been sitting here for the past half an hour staring dreamily off into space." Mariah rolled her eyes.

"I don't have a crush." Hilary groused, sinking further into the seat. "I don't know what gave you that idea."

"Well, maybe it was because when you weren't staring at nothing you had your eyes fixed on a certain hot, red-eyed Russian." Emily drawled with a wide grin.

"WHAT?!" Hilary sat upright, her eyes wide. "No! No!" She waved her arms wildly. "It's not like that at all I don't—"

"C'mon Hil, _everyone _saw how you were practically drooling over Hiwatari when he walked into the room." Mariah waved one hand, looking away as though it were obvious.

Hilary looked between the two girls with an expression akin to a mouse cornered. It wasn't fair; they were ganging up on her! "I didn't…" Her denials sounded weak even to her ears. "It didn't… I didn't look _that _bad, did I?"

"Think about it this way, you looked as bad as Mariah here does when Rei gives her one of his cocky, lopsided smirks." Emily laughed, and Hilary flushed harder. That was pretty bad.

Mariah didn't look so amused. "Well, I doubt you acted any better when you first saw Hiwatari."

Emily smiled. "Yes, but that was _different_. The first time I got a good look at him was when I saw him save Max in the facility. And that was damn impressive, if I do say so myself."

"Save Max?" Hilary questioned.

"Yup." Emily nodded. "There was this huge glass door that was going to fall right on top of Max, when _whoosh! _Kai just jumps out of nowhere and tackles Max out of the way, just in time. Probably saved his life."

"Wow…" Hilary, in spite of herself, was impressed, and it came through in her voice. Emily and Mariah exchanged wide grins.

"Wow, Emily, this poor girl has got one major case of Kai-pox"

"_Kai-pox?_" Hilary asked sarcastically, scrunching up her nose.

"Oh don't worry; we've both gone through it."

"No—I mean okay—but…**_Kai-pox?!_**" Hilary felt the need to reiterate the point here.

Emily sighed, a look of vague annoyance crossing her features. "I know, it's so unscientific, but Mariah insisted."

"Wha-a-at? I think it's cute." Mariah smirked, flashing one pointed canine. "It's better than Kai-osis or Hiwatari-itis, isn't it?"

Emily lowered her eyelids half way and regarded Mariah over her half-moon glasses in exasperation. "The purpose of comparison is to establish a level of variance. You can't take a bunch of bad ideas and rank them, it's redundant."

"Well gee, Mrs. Smarty-pants, if you're so witty why don't you come up with something better?" Mariah returned Emily's look with one of her own.

Emily's pursed lips were all the answer Mariah needed for her question.

"But wait, wait a minute. Don't you…" Hilary looked at Mariah, confusedly. "Don't you… _like_… Rei?" The word '_like_' seemed odd and unusual on her lips, she hoped the other girls didn't notice her hesitation. She felt so silly, talking about 'boys' like a love-crazy girl. Yet Emily and Mariah made it look so easy.

"Oh, of course!" Mariah looked at Hilary like she'd just asked if the sky was blue. "Of course I like Rei. He's sweet, handsome, smart, everything I could ever want in a guy… But, you know, that doesn't mean I can't… _appreciate _the finer qualities in other boys… And my, does that Hiwatari have a damn sexy body!" Mariah grinned predatorily and Hilary gasped.

"Mariah!" Hilary admonished. "Don't _say _that?"

"Well don't you agree?" Emily asked, looking at Hilary. "I mean, you couldn't _ask_ for a better body. And albeit the whole 'traitor' thing was a turnoff, but you gotta admit… even just a little, that that bad boy attitude is quite attractive."

"I…well, I…" Hilary was once again at a loss for words as both girls watched her.

"C'mon, admit it!" Mariah coaxed.

"Okay, okay! Fine, he's hot, ok? You happy now?" Hilary caved and blurted out the admission. Oddly enough it wasn't as hard as she thought it would be. It even made her feel good to say it and she smiled a little.

"There we go! Finally! Now we're getting somewhere! Acceptance is the first step!" Mariah exclaimed.

"The first step to what?" Emily challenged.

"To getting him to notice her! Now, I admit, Kai is a stuck up snob, but Hilary here seem to be a smart, independent girl here. No way would she let him walk all over her like some love-sick fan-girl. Hiwatari needs to learn some good humility after all; and there's nothing better to burst his ego bubble than a girl… Now, Hilary here seems to know absolutely nothing about boys—"

Hilary protested but her voice was completely unheard as Mariah continued.

"—so I propose we team up to give her some pointers!"

Emily didn't look convinced. "Hmm… I don't know. Kai's a bit… much for a first experience isn't he?"

"Excuse me?! How do you know I've never been out with a boy?" Hilary spluttered.

"Because you just said so, dear, now let the big girls talk." Mariah said without even looking at Hilary.

"Oie! I don't like to be ignored!"

"Mariah, I just don't know. Setting someone up is fine… But setting someone up with _Kai Hiwatari?_" Emily was still unconvinced.

"It'll be like the ultimate challenge!" Mariah clasped her hand together, looking positively gleeful.

"Hey, now what exactly is wrong with Kai anyway?" Hilary, annoyed felt the need to interrupt these girls who'd suddenly and without even asking, thrust themselves into her personal life. How would they know who is good for her or not? "Kai seems like an intelligent, responsible person. It might just be shy, or introverted. There's nothing wrong with that."

Emily stared at Hilary as though she'd never seen her before. "Wow, you _do _have it bad don't you?"

"Hey!"

"Speaking of Mr. Heartthrob, where is he?" Mariah craned her neck over the back of the couch to look around. "I haven't seen him since the beginning of lunch."

Emily sent a cursory look around the room. "I don't see him."

Hilary then joined the search. "Where do you think he went? I didn't know we were allowed to leave… he might have just gone to the washroom or something."

"Ohh… worried are we?" Mariah asked coyly.

"Am not!" Hilary answered hotly.

"Whatever." Mariah dropped down into the couch and leaned close. "Now tell me, what did you notice first about him? Was it the eyes or his biceps?"

"Mariah!"

"Oooh, maybe it was his cute butt!"

"MARIAH!"

* * *

'**;**.**;**' … _On another side of the room_

* * *

Mr. Tate placed his cup directly on the wooden table, not paying much heed to the saucer laying just a foot away. Expensive china, pfft, he hated all that uptight, high-collared stuff. Looking out of the corner of his eye, he could just see Voltaire's own forsaken cup on a nearby rosewood side-table. Mr. Tate resisted the urge to turn up his nose in disdain. He knew Voltaire's type: proud, arrogant—the elder man had probably had the expensive china brought in himself… because he was too _good _to drink from a normal cup. Alex could clearly see that the cup was still placed exactly in the centre of the saucer, and that the slightest amount of tea was still lingering at the bottom. Alex raised an eyebrow at that. Odd, usually someone as meticulous as Voltaire would not forget such a simple courtesy as finishing everything on your plate. Then, something stirred in the back of his mind, and Mr. Tate recalled what he'd read from a Russian guidebook he'd picked up in the airport. A section on etiquette. Of course, Voltaire had forgotten nothing. It was customary to leave a little of your food on your plate to show appreciation of the ample hospitality received. Hiwatari of course, took this to the extreme by passing the etiquette over to his drink as well. Shooting a narrow glace at his own cup, Mr. Tate shot out a hand and grabbed the cup around its downing the last dregs of its contents before placing it back on the table with a little more force than necessary.

"A little on the grumpy side, are we, kiddo?" came an amused voice from Alex's left.

With a groan, Mr. Tate relaxed back into his armchair. He rubbed a calloused hand over his eyes then dragged it down roughly over the rest of his face. He eyed the man seated next to him with some disgruntlement. Mr. Granger just laughed, and looked back, a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

Alex's gaze went back to the cup and he thought about what he just did. It was petty, and pointlessly spiteful to take out his aggressions in this way. This anger, it was so damn _old_. He really shouldn't be bothered by this kind of thing anymore… But that conversation with Ms. Foster, and Voltaire's _horribly _aggravating personality, it just brought back so many memories…

…Alex's fists clenched as he thought of exactly _how much _Voltaire's attitude got on his nerves. It was like an itch he couldn't scratch: an _annoying_, _irritating, blasted_ tick that made his teeth gnash, and his eyes twitch, and his hands tingle with the urge to punch the superior, smug look right off the bastard's face.

…But this was irrational, and wrong. This was _here _and _now_. And Voltaire Hiwatari was not Alex Tate's father, nor would he ever be, no matter the similarities.

…_'No matter the similarities'_. Alex repeated in his head, just for good measure. He looked down at his cup. This was here, this was now. He was no longer the impulsive youth from his past. He was a grown man, mature, responsible and completely in control of his own life, and himself. He did not need to act out with silly rebelliousness against the things he did not approve of. It was childish, and he'd grown beyond that.

Having resolved this issue in his head, he relaxed into his seat. Looking once more to his left, he saw Mr. Granger stretched luxuriously on a loveseat. His usual, gaudy Hawaiian style t-shirt clashed jarringly against the imperial maroon of the couch. The man was undeniably odd, and more than a little eccentric, but even still, the two had somehow managed to form a comfortable friendship and more and more, Mr. Tate found himself in the older man's company, whether it was to discuss important issues or to vent his frustrations.

This time, he just wanted some idle conversation.

"So Mr. Granger," Alex began. "Tell me, why did you decide to come all this way to Russia anyway?"

The elder man 'Hmm'ed very importantly before closing his eyes and leaning his head back. For a few seconds he said nothing, finally he opened his eyes and looked into Alex's mildly amused gaze.

"First of all," Ryu said. "Call me Bob."

Mr. Tate's eyebrows rose. "Bob? Why? Is that your real name?"

"No." The other man said simply, closing his eyes again. He didn't seem to be inclined to explain anymore and Alex could help but chuckle.

"Ok… Bob." Alex snorted.

Mr. Granger leaned forward then with a sudden motion and looked straight at Alex. "Cool. I'm just here to keep the old eyeball on my main man, Tyson. Gotta keep the 411 on those little dudes 24/7 or who knows where they'll go off! Besides, I ain't got much steam left in these old bones, and you know what they say: 'gotta use 'em before ya loose 'em!"

"Come on now Mr. Granger. You've got more energy than many twenty year olds I know." Alex scoffed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

There was a mysterious twinkle in Ryu's eyes but the older man said nothing about it. "Anyways, dude, chill. I've gotta check the little dude." And with a single, explosive motion, Mr. Granger slapped his hands on his knees and rose to his feet.

Alex watched with morbid fascination as Ryu proceeded to stealthily creep up on an unsuspecting Tyson—who was engrossed in conversation with Rei and Max—all the while unfolding his long wooden sword as he went. The dark-haired chef looked on long enough to see the strange old man bop his grandson on the head. Chaos thusly ensued and Alex, shaking his head bemusedly, rose from his chair.

Not too far away he noticed Judy talking to Deidre Foster and decided to head in their direction. On the way, He passed Hilary and two other girls—Mariah and Emily, chatting on the sofa.

"Honestly, being on a team of all boys is so exasperating!" Emily cried.

"I know! Empty food wrappers and dirty socks everywhere! Uh!" Mariah exclaimed back. "Of course, it also has it _upsides_, which I'm sure Hilary will agree with. Right Hilary?" Mariah gave a scary grin and poked Hilary in the side. The poor girl looked so embarrassed; her face was as red as a tomato.

Vaguely, Mr. Tate wondered if the teen had a crush on one of the Bladebreakers… But who? Max?... Somehow Mr. Tate didn't think so; Hilary didn't act very oddly around his son. Kenny? Probably not. Maybe Rei? That was a possibility… Or maybe it was Tyson. Suddenly, Mr. Tate grinned. Tyson! That must be it! He remembered back in his youth, boys always picked on the girls they liked, and Hilary and Tyson already bickered like an old, married couple. Alex chuckled. Hilary and Tyson, what a funny pairing that would be! Somehow though, it did seem like a good idea. They were complete opposites, and if there was someone who could organize Tyson and make him focus, it was Hilary. And Tyson would probably do just as good of a job of getting that girl to loosen up, and show her some of the world. Mr. Tate thought that it would be interesting to see how things worked out between them. _'Young love'_ what a bizarre thing it was.

As Mr. Tate pulled away from the girls, he closed in on his ex-wife and her friend talking to each other. Soon he as close enough to hear snippets of their conversation:

"So, the titanium base fits well with the overall structure." Judy had her 'thinking' face on and was studying some papers in Deidre

"Yes, as you can see here, I'm got the print-out of the function modelling rotation with respect to concentration of titanium per square millimetre in the base. Here there is a ten point increase in the location of the zero in its derivative."

"That's fantastic." Judy said.

"But look. It only happens if the blade is at a forty-five degree angle with respect to its attack bar."

"Oh dear." Judy deflated. In consternation, she gnawed gently on the nail of one thumb. Alex watched this manifestation of an old habit in fascination. He had once thought that particular trait of hers endearing. "That could be a problem."

"But, what if you restrict the attack angle to forty-three point seven percent? Couldn't we then optimize the relationship?"

Mr. Tate, very much intimidated by their technical talk, was in the process of making the very important decision of figuring the opportunity cost of approaching the women when he was unexpectedly saved from making the decision. A dulled _'thud' _sounded from somewhere to Alex's left and he spun his head in that direction. His eyes rested on the heavy mahogany wood of the conference room door. The sound had come from within. That was strange; Mr. Tate didn't know anyone else was in the room.

Swiftly, Mr. Tate sent a look around the room to see if anyone else had heard the noise, it didn't seem as though anyone had: Max and his friends were still talking animatedly to Tyson's grandfather, and everyone else was absorbed within their own conversations.

Mr. Tate wondered briefly if he'd imagined the noise, and pondered asking Mr. Dickenson about it. However, upon spotting the older man, Alex was surprised to see him approaching Voltaire, a look of obdurate decisiveness on his rotund features. Intrigued, he moved toward them.

"Mr. Hiwatari." Mr. Dickenson drew himself up to his full height self-importantly. "I hope that nothing is going on behind those doors to cause me to regret my decision." He said sternly.

Silence strained the air for a few moments as Voltaire slowly turned his head to gaze at the closed door of the conference room. Alex tried to glimpse his expression, but the man's face was turned away from him.

"Oh… I am sure that it is nothing." Voltaire's response came low and smooth from his lips in a pretentious drawl as he turned his head back to look Mr. Dickenson straight in the eye. Stanley looked uncomfortable under the full force of Hiwatari's eyes, but Alex was more disconcerted by the strange smile on the man's face. "You see," Voltaire continued. "My Grandson is unfortunately quite clumsy sometimes, most especially when he is nervous; and Director Boris does tend to have that effect on his students."

Alex's eyebrows rose. Kai hadn't struck him as particularly clumsy, but what was he doing in the conference room anyway.

"Ahem," Mr. Dickenson coughed into a large gloved fist. "Might I remind you, Mr. Hiwatari, that Kai is no longer an acolyte of Balkov Abbey." But Voltaire didn't deign to answer; that same, discomforting smile remaining on his face. "Might I also add that, for as long as I've known him, young Kai has always acted with admirable grace and competence fro his age—" Mr. Dickenson made to continue but was cut off by Voltaire raising his hand silently. Mr. Dickenson closed his mouth, but his disgruntlement shone clearly in his eyes as he tugged fitfully at the end of his moustache.

"Please, Stanley" Voltaire said. "Having raised the boy, I imagine I know him better than someone whose interest in him was merely perfunctory." Mr. Dickenson coloured slightly with indignation, hot red rising in his round cheeks, but he said nothing. "Now, if you would excuse me, I have some important business to take care of, and lunch has nearly run its course." And with a look of cold satisfaction on his face, Voltaire turned away and strode briskly away from the two men without so much as an acknowledgment of Mr. Tate's presence.

Alex watched the man glide away, his dark eyebrows furrowing together into a frown. "What's going on?" He asked the chairman.

Mr. Dickenson sighed, and was about to respond when a loud voice interrupted him.

"MR. D! MR.D! WE HAFTA TELL YOU SOMETHING!"

Alex turned in surprise to see Max and Tyson running toward him and Stanley. Rei was following at a slower, but still urgent pace, and behind them sauntered Mr. Granger, who sent Alex an amused glance as he moved to stand next to him. Tyson, the one who'd yelled, looked up at Mr Dickenson with wide eyes.

"Mr. D! We saw Boris walking over to Kai a little while ago and went to stop him, but Boris was too fast! He just grabbed Kai by the arm and hauled him away!"

"Yeah! And Kai barely even did anything. He sort of jerked around—I think he was holding something—but then Boris said something to him and Kai went all still…" Max sounded worried.

"It was strange…" Rei mused quietly. "Kai is usually practically impossible to sneak up on, but he seemed pretty out of it just then. If any of _us _had surprised him like that we'd be lucky to just walk away with a black eye."

"Or a concussion." Tyson muttered.

Alex sent an inquiring look at Mr. Granger, wondering if this was all true. Ryu merely raised his shoulders in a slow shrug.

Mr. Dickenson gave another long suffering sigh and the kids quietened down to listen to him. "I am afraid that Boris was well within his rights to take young Kai into the conference room."

"What?! What do you mean, he can't—"

"Please, Tyson, just listen a moment. Mr. Hiwatari requested the use of the room during lunch for a private discussion with his grandson…"

Rei looked surprised. "And you let him?"

"He is the host of this meeting. Technically he doesn't nee to go through me to have uses of the rooms he himself is in charge of. He informed me of his decision as an act of courtesy."

"Mr. Dickenson, surely you wouldn't fall for such an obvious ploy." Mr. Tate put in.

"It wasn't so much an act of 'falling for it' more than it was that I had no choice. If Mr. Hiwatari wants to have a private discussion with his grandson, I am in no position to deny it to him. At least, not here, in Russia."

"But what if they do something to Kai?" Max said, disquieted.

"You at least have cameras in there, right?" Rei asked.

"No cameras, no surveillance. Mr. Hiwatari has a right to his privacy."

"You don't mean to say you let Kai go in that room, alone, with those two madmen?" Alex was appalled.

"As well as Mr. Hiwatari's own two personal bodyguards." Stanley added quietly.

"Mr. D!" Tyson exploded. "How could you? Kai trusted you, coming here when he knew his grandfather would be here. And you just tossed him to the dogs?! I can't believe you! Who knows what they're dong to him in there!!"

"Tyson, calm yourself." Mr. Granger warned, and his grandson backed off, snapping his mouth shut with an angry _click_.

Mr. Dickenson leaned on his cane and looked away. "At the very least, Tyson, m'boy you can take comfort in the knowledge that, in spite of their faults, Mr. Balkov and Mr. Hiwatari are very smart men. They would never do anything potentially incriminating in such a public place.

Alex looked at his son, who was watching the closed wood doors with a torn expression on his face and couldn't help the cold remark that found its way out of his mouth.

"I hope you're right."

* * *

'**;**.**;**' … _On yet another side of the room_

* * *

"**_I_I **_I'm worried about him. **I**_**I**"

"**_I_I **_Why? **I**_**I**"

"**_I_I **_He's my brother, Bryan. **I**_**I**"

"**_I_I **_No he isn't. He is Hiwatari's spoiled Grandson. He is the Director's favourite. **I**_**I**"

"**_I_I **_You don't understand— **I**_**I**"

"**_I_I **_He left us to rot in the Abbey. What else is there to understand, Tala? **I**_**I**"

"…"

* * *

**¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤**

* * *

With a hoarse cry, Buzz Cut charges toward me, Blue Eyes following close behind. At the very last second, shift my weight to my right foot and dodge: bringing my left foot swinging behind my right and turning nearly sideways. I watch as Buzz Cut flies by, his hands—clawing at my neck—missing by mere inches, his face slowly changing from pug-like smugness, to befuddlement. tilting my head back over my right shoulder I narrow my eyes and snap my hand out, catching Blue Eyes' fist just before he punches me in the nose.

Blue Eyes looks shocked and before he can recover, I shift my grip to enclose his wrist, where I brutally shove my thumb and fifth finger into the area around his radial bone. Blue Eyes yelps in pain and curls forward instinctively; his hand spasms open involuntarily.

I feel something shift behind me and a quick glance confirms that Buzz Cut has recovered and his winding up for his second shot. Shifting my grip again on Blue Eyes, I step forward and spin around to his back, bringing his hand with me. Blue Eyes gasps as I forcefully dig his elbow into his back. My hand is spayed across the back of his: thumb on the knuckle of his smallest finger, the rest of my fingers curling into his APB muscle, and I wrench his hand around and pull back.

Blue Eyes arches back at the unexpected pain, and his head shoots up, right in time to meet Buzz Cut's flying fist.

As soon as Buzz Cut connects, I drop Blue Eyes, who collapses to the ground clutching at his rapidly swelling eye.

Buzz cut stares for a moment, stunned, at his fallen partner before his head comes up, eyes promising painful retribution. Not much caring for his semantics, I figure to finish him off quickly and aim an instep kick at the weak point right below his ribcage. Faster than I had anticipated, Buzz Cut throws his forearm out, blocking the kick then latchs his hand over my shin and calf.

Thinking quickly, I complete the rotation and—using my incapacitated leg as leverage—throw myself, spinning, into the air. My free foot snaps up in a hook kick aimed at the man's head and he has no time to guard before my heel connects solidly with his temple.

Buzz Cut growls inarticulately and drops my leg. Leverage gone, I am forced to plant my hands into the ground and flip my feet forward over my body. They land smoothly and I come up. Unfortunately, this move put my back to the guards for just a second—long enough for Blue Eyes to jump back up and grab me from behind.

Without even thinking, my elbow jerks back straight into the man's solar plexus, felling him immediately. I bite back the odd rush of satisfaction I feel at that move and staunchly ignore the quiet voice telling me that—had my armguards been on—it would have been easy to divert the hit… _easy _to have severed the femoral artery with the tip of my metal guard, killing the man in mere moments.

With a quiet sigh, I launch a quick chop to the side of the man's neck, under the ear and near the carotid artery, with the side of one hand. The guard's blue eyes flash briefly at me before rolling back into his head, his body gives and he crumples to the floor, unconscious. Blood bubbles at the man's nostrils; he's been hit there twice now. With the tip of my shoe I nudge his head to the side, the blood alters course from traveling back into his airway to dribbling off to the side, onto the red carpet floor.

"**_I_I**_ Little **bitch**_**._ I_I**"

I look up at the raspy voice and regard Buzz Cut silently. The hefty man is heaving himself to his feet, hand to his temple where a dark purple bruise has formed. I raise one eyebrow in mild annoyance—that hit should've knocked him unconscious, instead it just seems to have knocked him off balance. The man must have a thick skull to accompany his meaty frame.

"**_I_I**_You killed Alojz.** I**_**I**" The man rasps, still staggering to right himself.

"He is unconscious." I say dispassionately. Buzz Cut scowls hatefully. It does not seem like he understood me.

"**_I_I**_ You killed him. Now I'm going to kill you! **I**_**I**" The man snarls and leaps in my direction. I crouch in preparation.

"**_I_I_ Enough! I_I**"

The loud call halts Buzz Cut literally mid step and hesitates barely a second before snapping to attention. I spare the man one last wary glance before looking up with narrowed eyes at Boris. His eye are shining. He looks pleased. Why does he look pleased?

"**_I_I **_Stand down, Orlov. **I**_**I**" Boris demands, sending the guard a sharp look. Not looking very happy, Orlov nonetheless saluts off a quick 'Yes, Sir!' before taking a step back like an obedient dog. "**_I_I**_And go wake up Ciernik.** I**_**I**" Orlov snaps off another salute before moving to kneel down next to Blue Eyes—or Alojz Ciernik.

"**_I_I **_As for you… **I**_**I**" My eyes slide back to Boris as his attention shifts to me. "**_I_I **_I think you've had quite enough fun, Kai **I**_**I**" again with that irritating glimmer in his foul eyes. _Why_ is he so happy?

Then, Boris slides one gloved hand into his cloak and my senses immediately start sending alarms. I move forward, in a fruitless effort to stay his hand, but he is already raising the object into sight.

An ominous, metallic _click! _echoes through the suddenly too quiet room. I freeze.

"**_I_I **_Now Kai, why don't you be a good boy and get down on your knees? **I**_**I**"

Boris' maniacal grin is triumphant as he raises the barrel of the gun to my eyes.

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**_End Chapter Twenty-Two_…**

**… _To Be Continued_**

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I think that's a cliffhanger… what do you guys think? XD Now! Before you go off on me, let me just remind you that it's in the opinion of ALEX TATE that his father and Voltaire are similar… this does not mean that Alex's father was ever into the whole 'world domination' thing or that he is even really that similar to Voltaire… This is just was ALEX thinks… whether this is true or not… is another matter altogether XD

**WolfRain: **Hiya! Thank you for review! I'm sorry that it took so long for this chapter to come out! I was in Montréal for a few weeks where I was more or less internet deprived and had no time to type up this chapter. I made it extra-long though, I hope you liked!

**anon822: **Heya, thankies for the review! Wow, you really remembered why Izhevsk was an important point (you're one of the few that did XD)! That make me happy. And yeah, I've worked extra hard to make Voltaire as original as possible. Making him act evil is easy… but making him act evil with _finesse…_ now that's a little harder ;P Anyway, hope you liked the chapter (and Voltaire! More of him in the next chapter!).

**Irishpotatoes: **Hello again! I know, I'm trying to make the character more 'realistic' and, while that involves a little creative manoeuvring, I'm doing my best to keep them as close as possible to their original characters. As for the plot (Plot? What plot? (puts hand over eyebrows and stares into the distance) I don't see any reasonable plot in view XD) … Well, lets just say that it IS there… just extremely well hidden among subplots and characterizations (seriously, it's taking forever for me to establish different aspects of my characters… there are just so many!). I have to admit though, I'm kind of enjoying the challenge and as long as you continue to like it, I won't worry too much about over-complications :D. I'm glad that you think this story has a low-predictability level, I've read lots of Beyblade fics, so I know what some of the clichés are. And while you may see a manifested cliché here and there, I'm attempting to make this story as original as possible. As for character deaths… hmmm… I'm not going to say anything (though the end of this chapter probably didn't help any, did it? XD).

**Lady-Darkstreak: **(Wide grin) Thank you! I'm glad you liked it so far and I hope you liked this latest chapter (it took long enough to write! LOL).

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**Once again! Please check out Canyx's wonderful fanart for this fic! You'll find it at http: / / canyx. deviantart. com/art/Dynasty-of-the-Sun-84476065 (without the spaces). If that doesn't work, go to my profile page, click on the link to my DeviantArt page and you'll find the picture under my favourites. Thanks!**

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**Also thank you everyone who reviewed! Thanks to bladz-liska, Raykou-kun, Yuliya, The Demon Puppeteer (you changed your penname, didn't you? ;P), terracannon876, Black zodiac (over and over! I loved every one of your reviews!), wolf's lament, BloodRedViolet, WolfRain, phoenix-falling, FlamingIce94, grimnessreaper, Canyx, Miako6, lady KCassandra, d1bontemp, anon822, kissedbykai, vlissan, geko-blackjack, fawks136, Nordwind, Irishpotatoes and Lady-Darkstreak! There are SO MANY of you! Every time I look at the reviews for this story I can't stop grinning, you're all amazing!**

**Adio!**

**Sholay**

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**MY ANNOUNCEMENT!! To celebrate this story passing the 300 review mark, as well as its one year birthday (Sooryavansham is a year old! I'm so proud!!) I've started a new fanfiction. This story is a crossover between Naruto and Beyblade called '_Sharingan Eyes'_. You'll find the link on my profile. Please read and review!! Note that THIS NEW STORY IS A TEST and its future depends on YOUR response. So tell me your thoughts! Thank you!**


	26. His One True Weakness

**Chapter 23**

Hey all! I'm finally back in Canada after my trip to the States; but not for long! In less than a week I'll be traveling to Portugal for six days! I know! You must all be thinking 'What on Earth is UP with her?! Running off to all parts of the world and keeping irregular updating schedules!' But hey, at least I'm warning you guys XD! At any rate, I might not have any internet connection in Portugal, so you can expect a significant lack in updates during that time :P…

**Disclaimer: **Beyblade is the property of Takao Aoki. All original characters are mine, mine, mine! Actually, I'm surprised at how many original characters I DO have… whoa… where did they all COME from?!

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**KEY: **

— **_I_I**_ …(italics)… **I**_**I **—denotes a change in language

—** _I_I**_ **…(bold)…**_ **_I_I **—denotes a second change in language

—** ¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤ **—denotes a change in point of view

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Enjoy!

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

_After the world championships in Russia, Kai just wanted to vanish. Then one day, inevitably, Kai is drawn back and ensnared in an intricate web of magic and legends; wrought by forsaken history and controlled by none other than Voltaire. _

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_"Do not scorn a weak cub. He may become a brutal fighter." _

—_Mongolian Proverb_

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**Chapter 23:** **_His One True Weakness_**

"Take that thing out of my face."

I scowl deeply at Boris. The initial shock of having a gun pointed at my head has faded and with it has returned my common sense.

"Not even in Russia do you have the power to get away with murder. Not with so many witnesses." Pointedly, my eyes pass over the heavy, wooden doors of the conference room. Even through the closed doors, a low murmur from the crowd in the next room is audible. Another thought occurs to me then. "Besides, I doubt Voltaire would be pleased if you killed his only heir." Merely mentioning Voltaire has my posture straightening, a superior smirk threading its way across my face. I know I am right. Boris is a pathetic simpering pet of Voltaire's, and my Grandfather would never allow—

"**_I_I **_Still hiding like a coward behind your dear Grandfather's back, are you… **I**_**I**" I can _hear_ the smirk in Boris' smarmy voice and grit my teeth, belatedly realizing how my words must have sounded… How my _thoughts _had sounded.

_'I was stating a fact; Voltaire keeps his subordinates on a tight leash—I was only reiterating that to Boris. Nothing more. Nothing less.' _Having effectively resolved the point mentally, I do not deign it necessary to respond to Boris' comment

"**_I_I **_But nonetheless, you have point. **I**_**I**" And Boris lowers the tip of the gun, giving it what could be called a fond look as he rubbed an invisible smudge off the barrel. This show of affection—for a mere _thing_—irritates me more than it should; that Boris would care more for an inanimate object than he ever did for a human being should not come as much of a surprise to me. "**_I_I **_Lord Voltaire would be much displeased if I killed you… And besides, I find myself reluctant to ruin such a pretty face.__ **I**_**I**" The look he sends me then is nothing short of salacious, and my scowl returns, darker.

"You disgust me." I say contemptuously.

Boris seems not to hear, his attention once again draw to his gun. "**_I_I **_You really haven't realized it yet, have you? **I**_**I**" He strokes a thick finger over the gleaming slide then taps the sight thoughtfully, making a hollow, metallic sound. I frown. "**_I_I **_Hasn't it occurred to you that maybe it wasn't **you **I was threatening? **I**_**I**" And he bares his teeth in a cruel grin.

My back goes rigid.

All at once, everything becomes frighteningly clear to me: how extremely vulnerable the Bladebreakers are… how vulnerable they all are… in Russia. How easy would it be for Voltaire to get one of his contacts, one of his mafia connections, to pick off Tyson, Rei or Max… On an idle whim of Voltaire's, they could all be dead in less than a few hours. And there would be no evidence—nothing—to tie Voltaire to the crime. They would become just another nameless face, an unfortunate foreigner, lost in the war against organized crime… All on a whim… and Voltaire would do that, Boris too… there was no question.

"**_I_I **_Who would go first? **I**_**I**" Boris is already entertaining the idea. "**_I_I **_Maybe that Chinese brat; it would serve him right after he cheated his way into victory last year. **I**_**I**"

_'Rei won that fight fairly.'_

"**_I_I **_Or perhaps that obnoxious Japanese boy, what was his name? Ah, yes, **Tyson**. Yes, he would be a very good choice. Little fool thought he could trample all over our traditions and hard-work without any consequences? The boy needs a little lesson in discipline. **I**_**I**"

A sharp thrill of liquid ice stings my throat and heart as the gun in Boris' hand catches the light, glinting in my eyes with wicked brilliance.

"You will _not_ touch them." The words are spoken before I even realize I've opened my mouth.

Boris smiles.

"**_I_I **_Oh? And what will you do to stop me, Fifty-seven? **I**_**I**"

That number, a horrible, derogative method of dehumanization, seems to cut me almost physically. I have to repress a flinch. Why, why did it affect me?

Could it be… that I had yet to actually _hear _that number used to address me outside of those visions—hallucinations—I have been having? Could it be because hearing that number brought some truth to those hallucinations? Truth… Which meant… that those visions were _real_: _memories_…

_'No.'_

I stare at Boris evenly, not giving him the satisfaction of an answer. Somehow, he seems to have expected this lack of response and directs his stone-grey gaze to something behind me.

"**_I_I **_Orlov, Ciernik, tie his hands. **I**_**I**"

My wrists are grabbed and yanked non-too-gently behind my back. I hear a snide snigger; Orlov must be trembling with joy at having the chance to get his revenge. There is a glint of metal in my vision and suddenly I am double in their hold, wheezing slightly as my stomach becomes reacquainted to Boris' steel-plated gloves. A hand fists in my hair, pulls up and I feel Boris lower his head to my ear.

"**_I_I **_I'm going to make you regret the day you ever turned your back on me. **I**_**I**" He hisses in vile content. Again, pain blossoms in my chest and this time my knees buckle. Another strike, this one sharper, more concentrated—the heel of a boot—hits me directly behind my knees—and then I'm on the ground. The boot lashes out again, striking my ribs hard and my chest gives an ominous shudder in response. A few more hit like that…

Suddenly the blows subside, and my eyes—which were squeezed shut—open hesitantly.

"**_I_I **_I've noticed something. **I**_**I**" Boris has a puggish, pleased look on his face. "**_I_I **_All this time you've been speaking in English… You've avoided speaking in Russian to the point of ridiculousness. I wonder why? **I**_**I**" He pauses for a moment, long enough for me to muster up a respectable glare from my position on the ground. "**_I_I **_Could it be… because you are afraid? Are you scared, little firebird, of the memories your Mother Tongue will bring you? **I**_**I**"

I maintain my glare for a second longer, then promptly spit on his shoes.

"Go to hell, Boris."

His anger is beyond words.

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Tyson was enraged. He couldn't understand it; why would Mr. D let Boris and Voltaire practically drag Kai off like that? They had no right! Especially after what they'd already done to him. They shouldn't even be allowed to _look _at Kai, let alone get to talk to him!

…_Tyson _hadn't even gotten the chance to do that yet!

But Mr. D, he'd always done everything he could to keep them safe, and he always acted so nice, like a second Grandfather to them all. It didn't make any sense to Tyson why jolly old Mr. D would leave Kai alone with those… those cannibals! Those sharks! Even Tyson knew Voltaire and Boris were dangerous; why couldn't Mr. D see it?

"I say we bust in there and get him out—drag him out if we have to." Tyson muttered conspiratorially to Rei and Max.

"But what if they really _are _just talking?" Rei raised an eyebrow. "After all, like Mr. D said, it would be pretty stupid for them to try anything here… in front of everyone."

"But Rei…" Max said softly, looking down at the ground. "They don't have to physically h-hit Kai to hurt him… Last year all they did was give him Black Dran—"

"Kai won't fall for that again." Tyson said confidently. "And besides, who said anything about hitting? There was never any proof of that stuff going on at the Abbey." Tyson couldn't bring himself to say the word _'abuse'_. It was… too unthinkable. A taboo subject.

"…Tyson…" Rei looked like he wanted to say something more, but stopped himself.

"What?" Tyson looked at Rei with honestly curious eyes.

"Nothing…" Rei looked into those big eyes, then looked away. "Let's just… Let's just get him out of there, ok?"

"Yeah!" Tyson pumped a fist in the air and Max grinned. They turned in the direction of the door, but had only taken a few steps before a voice stopped them.

"Whoa there, homies! Where do ya think yer goin'?" Ryu Granger was standing right in the path of the three Bladebreakers, hands on his hips.

"Aw, Gramps, not now! We're going to bust Kai out of that ambush by his evil grandfather and that goggle-freak. And we gotta hurry!" Tyson feigned right then tried to dash around his Grandfather's left side but Ryu was too fast, grabbing Tyson by his red blazer and spinning him around.

"You what?" Mr. Granger exclaimed. "Now wait just one minute! You can't just go barging in there like that!"

"Why not?" Tyson shot back. "It's a free country!"

"No it isn't! Besides, don't you think that if the Kai-man wanted to walk away from them, he would have?" Ryu challenged.

"No! That's just it! Kai's smart and all, and he gives good advice; but he's pretty awful when it comes to making the right decisions for _himself_." Tyson said in a surprising burst of maturity and insightfulness. "That's why he needs _us_, his friends, to keep him from making bad mistakes like _this_!" And he swept his hand in a wide gesture to the conference room door.

It seemed like there was a brief shine of pride in Mr. Granger's eyes, but quickly, the elder man continued his argument. "V-man is Kai's grandfather, kid. Dontcha think they deserve to make up? Kai might want to talk with his Gramps—"

"Not a chance!" Tyson said without hesitation. "After all the stuff Voltaire's done—after everything he's said about Kai—there's no way Kai'd want anything to do with him! And don't even bring up the Grandmother story 'cause I don't believe it for a second!"

"…But Ty… Kai wouldn't lie about having a Grandmother…" It was Max's quiet voice that suddenly spoke up. "After all, he never told us anything about his family… and we never asked, so who are we to judge him like that? Maybe Kai really _does _want to make up with his grandfather… Yes, Voltaire did some awful things… but maybe Mr. D was exaggerating about what he said… or maybe he wants to say he's sorry…"

Tyson looked at Max incredulously. "Voltaire? Sorry?! There's a greater chance of Tala putting on a pink tutu and dancing _Swan Lake_."

"…Didn't need that mental image." Rei muttered.

"But Voltaire is Kai's family." Max insisted. "And wouldn't it be nice if Kai could get along with his family?"

"_We _could be his family, Max." Tyson said. "He doesn't need people like Voltaire, or Boris: people who'll use him, try to force him into things he doesn't want. We'd be like brothers to him." Here he looked to Max and Rei, whose expressions grew more assured, bolstered by Tyson's confidence. "And Gramps," Tyson continued. "We could take him in if he didn't have a home, right? You wouldn't mind; you like Kai, right?" Tyson looked toward his Grandfather imploringly.

Mr. Granger was silent for a moment, watching Tyson with an intense expression. Finally, he spoke. "Tyson… Kai values his privacy, right?"

"…I… yes…" Tyson answered hesitantly, half annoyed at how his Grandfather had just ignored his impassioned speech and half curious about the point the older man was getting at.

"Well, whatever connection you want with him, whatever bond… all that will be ruined if you invade his privacy now. He might never trust you again." Mr. Granger's voice was gentle.

This time, it was Rei who was affected. "Tyson… he's right." Rei said softly.

"No! He'll get over it! We'll keep bugging him until he does!" Tyson held on tenaciously, unwilling to let his idea go; even though both Rei and Max seemed to be swaying.

Ryu placed one hand comfortingly on Tyson's shoulder. "Tyson my man, you remember what always happens when you jump into things too impulsively?" At this, Tyson made a hissing sound of frustration, a confused scowl on his face as he looked away. Mr. Granger's arguments were calculated and precise, built with words that would specifically break down each and every one of his grandson's arguments. Mr. Granger looked down at Tyson with a soft expression; he already knew he'd won.

"Fine." Tyson huffed. "I guess you guys are right. I'll leave him alone… for now. But that doesn't mean I have to be happy about it!" And Tyson, shaking off the hand on his shoulder, shot an angry look at his grandfather before storming away. Max and Rei bit the elder man relatively more polite farewells before walking away as well.

Mr. Granger watched his grandson's retreating back.

"Whew! Well, it might take some time before he forgives you, but at least you did the right thing."

Mr. Granger looked over his shoulder to see Alex Tate standing behind him. Alex looked at Ryu, noted his pensive expression, and raised one dark eyebrow.

"What is it?" Max's father asked.

Mr. Granger sighed. "That's just it. I think what I just did was precisely the _wrong _thing to do."

"What?" Alex looked confused. "Why? I mean, I thought it was a bad idea to leave the boy alone in the room with those two men also; but Mr. Dickenson authorized it, so I guess he'd know better than anyone—"

"What you must understand about Mr. Dickenson," Ryu had once again undergone that startling change from light-hearted and flippant to low and serious. "Is that, much like an ostrich, he has the tendency to bury his head in the sand and forget about the world around him. I believe he means well; really, he'd never knowingly wish harm on anyone. But if something is not thrown directly in front of his face, Mr. Dickenson is usually blind to it. As long as everyone shows up on time, does their job properly, and appears to be in good health, Mr. Dickenson can walk on with a blessedly ignorant mind."

Alex was quiet as he digested these words. Gingerly, he licked his lips. "So… what do _you _think is going on behind those doors?"

"Nothing good, I'll tell you." The way Mr. Granger said it sent shivers up Alex's spine.

"So why did you stop them? Tyson was so persistent; he would have knocked down that door to get to Kai, and Max and Rei would have been right there with him! Why did you stop them!?" Alex exploded.

Mr. Granger got a very strange smile on his face with Alex's Tate's words: he looked… proud. "Yes…" Mr. Granger said quietly. "Tyson is a very stubborn kid. Very loyal." The man's eyes slid halfway shut as his thoughts strayed.

Alex was confused by Ryu's words, and more than a little annoyed by his disaffected attitude toward the real problem. "Why did you stop them?" Alex repeated once more; but when no answer was immediately forthcoming, he drew back, sick of waiting. "Fine. If you can stand by and let an innocent boy get hurt then you're not the man I thought you were. But I cannot let this go one. I'm going to stop it right now." And Alex spun on his heel, fully intent on slamming the conference doors open and stopping whatever was going on in that room.

A sudden, shocked expression crossed Ryu's face coupled with something bordering fear. "Stop!" Ryu's hand shot out and grabbed Alex's arm roughly. Alex was yanked back around to face the older man and thought he tried to pull his arm back, it stayed tight in the vice-like grip Ryu had on him. Alex growled.

"Let me go!" He said, tugging his arm harder.

"No! I can't let you go in there!" Ryu sounded unnaturally desperate.

"You can't stop me!"

"Listen to me! This isn't just about you! This isn't just about Kai! This is about all of us! You could be putting us all in danger by doing this!"

Alex stopped moving. "What are you talking about?" He said, looking at Mr. Granger suspiciously. "What else do you know? What aren't you telling me?"

"You know it too! You just aren't using your head! Think, boy!" Mr. Granger moved close to Alex, his voice nearing a harsh whisper—as though he were telling some dangerous secret. "Voltaire has connections in the Russian mafia. And where are we right now? Russia! Think about it, so far we've done nothing to anger him… I think right now he probably considers us as nothing more than bugs on the floor: idle amusement at best, easily crushed at worst. But that's because we haven't done anything to challenge him, or threaten him. Yet. But what do you think will happen if we take away his one main obsession? Kai is more than a Grandson to Voltaire; it's obvious from the way the man looks at him that Kai was always meant to achieve some great ambition of his. Like a younger vessel through which Voltaire can pursue whatever malicious plan his twisted mind has come up with. And I don't think Voltaire is quite ready to let go of that vision just yet. Now think, what do you think will happen if we endanger Voltaire's relationship with his grandson?"

Alex's mouth was slightly open, his arm growing slack in the other man's grip. "… He… would get rid of the competition." Alex couldn't believe such a cold-blooded man existed.

"Off with their heads." Ryu said dryly. "He's done it before; I doubt he'd even blink before doing it again. To you, to Max and even Judy. You walk in those doors and you forfeit not only your life, but the lives of your family."

Alex was beyond words; his very breath seemed to escape him. To think… to think he'd been so close, _so close_, to pissing off a man who, literally, had the ability to snuff out his life like a candle… and to whom that life was worth little more than gravel.

"Not so keen on going in there anymore are you? Even if it means saving that boy?" Ryu let go of Alex's arm, and sent the younger man a sidelong look.

Somehow these words made Alex furious with indignation. "What are you trying to say? You're doing the same thing I am!"

"I suppose…" Mr. Granger looked at his nails. "You don't know Kai all that well; it's understandable that you would put your son first."

"My family is the most important thing to me in the world!" Alex exclaimed. "But that doesn't mean I would want anyone else to get hurt in their place! I might not know Kai that well, but he's a human being, like any other, and he deserves to be treated like one! And you know what? I DO know him. I've heard enough about him now to fill up a book, and plus, Max trusts him, and Kai risked his life to save my son. So that puts him pretty damn high in my books. And you know what else? Maybe once I get to know him even better he might become just _as close_ as family!" Alex breathed heavily after finishing his rant and looked at Ryu with blazing eyes.

After just a few minutes of breathing in and out, sense slowly started to return to Alex and he thought about the words he'd just said. He looked away, frowning, and wishing he hadn't said so much. Somehow though, he couldn't bring himself to take back his words. He'd meant them.

"Very good, lad! That's exactly what I wanted to hear!"

Alex looked up in surprise to see Mr. Granger beaming at him brightly.

"Huh?" Alex was thoroughly confused.

"You see, the direct approach has been closed to us, so now the way to go is the _indirect _approach. Voltaire'll never know what hit him." Ryu pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and held it up into Alex's vision. Alex squinted, trying to make out the chicken scratches on the paper. It looked like some sort of an address.

"I'll tell you the details later. For now it's enough for you to know that you've officially been recruited as my sidekick." Mr. Granger sent Alex another way-too-happy grin and thumped the stunned younger man on the back.

"S-sidekick?" Alex coughed. What had he gotten himself into?

"Yup, and lemme tell you, this is going to be one heck of a mystery, my dear Watson!" The grin on Ryu's face was starting to scare Alex.

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"**_I_I **_How does it feel boy? Does it feel good? To finally be back where you belong, on the ground at my feet. Does it feel familiar? This is where you belong; it's where you've always belonged. No matter what kind of fancy shirts and penguin suits you dress up in, you'll never be able to hide what you are. **This**_**. **_This is you. On your knees, at my feet. This is where you began and this is where you'll always end up. You can't make something out of nothing; all you get is a bigger mess. Look at yourself. A mess. You're pathetic. **I**_**I**"

My forehead rests on the ground and harsh, jagged breaths force themselves past aching lungs and clenched teeth. My hands are one more tied behind my back, but this time they're held by a thin, plastic locking tie. No knots to work at.

"**_I_I **_Come on, no smart remarks? No saucy little glares? Don't tell me I've broken you already! **I**_**I**" Boris gives a bark of laughter and sends his foot into my side yet another time. I intake a sharp breath as white light explodes behind my eyes, then cough as something sticky forms in my mouth.

The coppery tang of blood fills my senses and some of it sprays from my mouth onto the ground. I look down. Red blood on a red carpet. How positively ironic.

Pushing the cynicism aside, I make a mental note that the blood is still a dark red, not a frothy pink…meaning my ribs have not pierced my lungs… but still, not necessarily a good sign since I cannot feel any cuts or lacerations in my mouth.

A sudden, loud slam reverberates through the room and I start, looking up sharply. Boris too, looks startled and stumbles away from me.

"Boris! What is the meaning of this?" Voltaire's harsh, unforgiving voice booms through the room like an ominous death knoll. Reacting immediately to his presence, and without thinking, I push myself up, rocking back on my toes then shoving my body into sharp attention. My ribs protest the motion, but it is easily ignored.

"Lord Voltaire… I—" Boris cowers in a pitiful display, wringing his hands and backing away from my Grandfather while half-bowing. It does not escape me that Voltaire's own precise, aristocratic English had Boris immediately switching languages to match. "I was merely—"

"Enough." Voltaire does not yell, but his tone has Boris falling immediately into silence. Voltaire strides up to Boris and gives him a penetrating stare. "Do not presume to discipline my grandson in your barbaric ways. Untie him, now, and return my grandson's property to him." Boris rushes to repeat these instructions to the two guards and they quickly move behind me.

The plastic tie around my wrists comes away with a snap and I immediately rub at my wrists. Small incisions were made where tapered edges had sliced past the skin, but nothing too serious. My arm guards and scarf are returned and I waste no time in putting them on. Like a blanket of security they have the instant effect of putting me at ease… and it is with not a little irritation that I realize how accustomed I have become to their comforting weight.

Slowly then, I look up at the powerful figure of my Grandfather. One eyebrow arches. Why is he stopping Boris? It makes no sense, that Voltaire would call Boris' methods barbaric, when in the past Voltaire himself had had no qualms over strangling me to near death. I thought he would enjoy the sight of me struggling on the ground. More than that though, Voltaire never refers to me as 'grandson'… only when we are in the company of strangers, or when he is inordinately pleased with me. Not often, as one can imagine. Why is he doing it now?

What is going on?

"Boris," Voltaire, his back still to me, turns his head to address the other man. "Take your men and leave the room. Now."

The silence left in their absence is stifling.

Unease is an unwanted companion in the quiet. I worry the edge of my tongue with my teeth; this feeling: the anxious dread of a child about to be punished—is not unfamiliar to me. In fact it is much too familiar.

It is at times like these when I almost prefer Boris' savage physical abuse.

When in the company of others, it is easy to compartmentalize Voltaire. He is distant, cruel, unkind and fastidious to a fault. It is the same when he is angry: the anger blinds him, making him loose control and lash out in predictable fits.

But it is his control which makes me uneasy.

This cold, unreadable silence which passes between us now—his back turned to me so that I cannot even glimpse his expression—it bothers me in that unreasonable, maddening way which only Voltaire can achieve. His could easily be enraged—my leaving for a year, and that comment about Grandmother, would certainly warrant his anger—and I would have absolutely no idea until he started yelling.

I hate it when he yells.

But just as easily, he could be pleased, or satisfied… It happened, on a few occasions… And even now, years later, I can feel an echo of the consummating happiness I had felt when he had gazed down at me, pride shining in his intense eyes.

I harden myself.

_'I am not eleven anymore.'_

Then, with painstaking slowness, Voltaire turns.

My hand, which had been fiddling with the edge of my arm guard, stops and falls to rest at my side. I do not want him to see me fidgeting.

_'Why?'_

And his eyes fall on me.

_'So disappointed… he looks so… disappointed.'_

It is inexplicable, the sudden pull at my heart, the sudden urge to step forward, to say something, to do _something_. Anything, anything to take that look off his face, to prove myself… To make him pleased, to prove _my_ worth. I am worthy of his pride.

_'Why? Why do I feel this way? He is nothing to me… He… is… **nothing**.'_

"You left me."

This simple sentence is like a physical blow, pushing the air out of my lung sin a single, definitive thrust.

"You… took my words so completely to heart that you just left me. You did not look back. You did not come back."

_'Why… **why **is he saying this? He's supposed to be angry with me. Mad, be mad, Grandfather… I understand you so much better when you're mad. I ran away for a year, I talked about Grandmother. Be mad. Be angry!' _Unexpected, is this burst of emotion and I quickly gather it mentally plucking it from my consciousness and throwing it into a deep recess of my mind.

_'Empty.'_

My mind clears.

"I thought you did not want me." My voice is cool, detached and I regard him in the same aloof manner which I had learned from him years ago.

"So you left. Without even a backward glance, you left your home. Our home." His eyes meet mine fully and for a moment my thoughts completely scatter. His eyes speak volumes: some deep, unfathomable expression in them which I cannot read. The urge to say something, something meaningful, something that would sound as deep as his words did, hits me. I have to say something that would not sound silly; something that would impress him...

But no such words come to mind.

"I thought… you did not want me." It makes no sense, why should I be ashamed of my answer? I left because he wanted me to, it was not my fault. He was the one who drove me out of his house. Then why am I averting my eyes from him, why am I looking away?

"I would not want you… _I _would not want you?"

My eyes shoot up to him, involuntarily opening wide. Was that… _hurt_ I heard in his voice?

"With my own two hands, I brought you into my house." Voltaire raised his hands, spread, as though in prayer. "With these hands I taught you how to read and write. And when you fell off your bicycle, it was _I_ who picked you up and put you back on your feet."

I look down. I remember that day… I was ten, and so excited with my new shiny red bicycle that I had jumped on it and tried to ride away without even realizing I did not know how to ride. When I had fallen and scraped my knee, it had been Grandfather that had picked me up, brushed me off and patted me on the head. The next day, my bicycle had been ready and waiting for me… with training wheels attached.

"I took you from the vulgar, illiterate child you were and turned you into a proud, honourable man. And this…" With a distinct condescension, he looks down his nose at my clothes. "_This _is how you show your appreciation? By returning to the vile roots from which I found you? By disrespecting your late Grandmother with your lies?"

I say nothing.

"After the passing of my son and his dear wife, I lost all hope of ever finding you. It was nothing short of a miracle that placed you in my hands. I had a second chance to right the wrongs I had done. You completed our family, and you would grow to fulfill all my expectations."

"Everything I did, I did for you." I say, starting out quietly, as I speak my voice grows in strength and confidence. I look up. "But nothing was ever enough for you. Nothing I could do would ever make you proud of me. You were the one who threw me out. You were the one who never called me back."

"I am your Grandfather. I am your elder. I should not have to call you back." Voltaire raises his head, giving me such a stare that—had I been a few years younger—I would have crumbled.

"I had to work for years just to get a single compliment from you; but the second I did something wrong—the _second _I showed signs of acting in ways that was outside your bidding—you abandoned me like I was worthless."

"You betrayed the family. _You_ went against our honour. And what I did, I did to discipline you. It was _you_ who did not realize your mistakes; you did not see the error of your ways and you did not return to me humble."

"You were forcing me to help you _steal bitbeasts. _For yourself, for Boris." I nearly hiss.

"**_No_**." Voltaire's sharp denial stops me mid-thought. I narrow my eyes. "Think closely, Grandson, before you speak. Why did I give you Black Dranzer?"

I draw back, confusion clouding my thoughts. Why had Grandfather given me Black Dranzer… after I had already betrayed Boris and switched back to the Bladebreakers? I was clearly fighting to destroy the Abbey, and therein destroy all chances of Boris—and Voltaire by association—gaining control of the world. But at the last moment, when I had been fighting Spencer— and loosing—Grandfather had cornered me in the hallways… and silently, with that unreadable expression on his face, he had taken my hand and pressed into it the cold, dark blade of Black Dranzer. At that time I had thought it was Voltaire's way of saying he still had some measure of control over me… that only by his will could I fight and win a match.

…I never thought…

"You say that everything you did was for my favour… and _I_ say that everything I did was for your future." Grandfather steps forward then, and with one hand, reaches up. For one, small, breathless moment I think that he is going to take my face in his hands; but then he drops his hand and turns away, taking a few steps to the side. My head falls; a lingering, worrisome regret tugging at me.

_'I… wanted him to touch me?'_

Was it true? Did Voltaire really give me Black Dranzer for no other reason than so I could win my match? Was it possible… that Voltaire did not know the dark, malicious desires the black bitbeast gives birth to within me? Did he only think of the power I had with Black Dranzer in my hand; not of its consequences?

It is possible… Voltaire does not know of the sibilant croon that haunts my every step when Black Dranzer is in my possession. He does not know about the dreams—nightmares—of creeping masses of dark tendrils that drag me down into an endless abyss of sparkling, mocking black fire. All he saw was the ease with which I defeated my opponents and the undeniable increase in strength, power and will… and the inability to fall… to fail…

…The inability to disappoint.

This last thought leaves a sour taste on my tongue and my eyebrows pull down into a deep frown. With sudden clarity I gain my perspective back. What Voltaire says is a lie. It has always been a lie. He thinks he can manipulate me, throw fancy words and pretty insinuations in my face to catch me off guard, to win me back to his side… When in reality everything is a farce. His concern, his protection, it all comes with a steep price: the fulfillment of his own selfish needs, his own misguided desires.

It is a price I am no longer willing to pay.

Something in my expression must have changed because Voltaire's eyes grow shuttered: the corner of his withered lips pulling down into a displeased frown.

"I see." There's that disappointed tone again as he looks down on me. "So, in the end, even my own Grandson will turn his back to me. You would toss me aside for whom? Those fools out there?" He raises his right hand, palm up, in a vague gesture toward the door. "They weaken you with their foolish ideals, their fickle emotions… The only consistency you have ever had in your life is me. My presence, my expectations of you. Think on it. They shower you with meaningless praise and what good does it do you? What does it give you? Does it make you happy, hm? Are you _happy _Kai?" His tone mocks me and I don't answer.

"So you have to work a little harder for my praise, is that such a bad thing? _I _motivated you to move above and beyond your limits. _I _drove you to set your goals and _exceed _them. What did they do, Kai? They made you _happy_. And where did your happiness get you?" He gives a pointed glance at my frayed jeans, my shabby sneakers.

"This is where _you_ put me." I mutter, feeling all too much like a petulant child.

"No, this is where your arrogance put you. The arrogance which you gained from _them_." The way he said _'them' _made it sound like a curse word. It did not take a genius to know he was referring to the Bladebreakers.

"I am not going to argue with you." And Voltaire steps back. "But I will tell you to remember this: from the moment you stepped through my door I never turned my back to you, even when you turned yours to me. I never stopped looking for you. Never. But _them_: those fools you hold so close to your regard… they did not even miss your presence. Now tell me truly, are they really worth your loyalty?"

His words…

My fingers spasm and I clench them into tight fists. I feel the line of my jaw harden as well, as my teeth grind against each other.

Voltaire turns then, a swift, precise motion, and walks toward the door. He doesn't seem even remotely frazzled by this entire conversation, his suit is impeccable and not a single hair on his head is out of place. I, on the other hand, feel completely stripped bare: weakened by a vicious attack that wasn't even physical.

"Kai."

My head comes up, instantly attentive—an ingrained habit.

"What did you do with Black Dranzer?" Voltaire's back is still facing me.

"I destroyed it." I answer monotonously. "Crushed it under my heel then scattered the pieces in a lake."

There is no answer; but after a moment, Voltaire turns his head, just slightly, and I glimpse the barest flicker of a smile on his face.

"Poor boy, you always were such a terrible liar."

With those parting words, Voltaire sweeps from the room… leaving me feeling oddly as though I had just lost something important to me.

I am only allowed a few minutes alone when the door opens once again. I look up—having successfully schooled my features into a decidedly apathetic expression— to the rather unpleasant sight of the ruddy, thick-faced Orlov.

"**_I_I **_Brat. What are you still doing in here? Hurry up and get out. **I**_**I**" He snarls, waving crudely at the open door.

I exhale through my nose, not bothering to respond verbally to the guard. Sending one last cursory glance at the room, I move to walk forward.

A sharp, crippling pain splits my chest and nearly knocks me to the floor.

Stifling a curse on my lips, I bend double while trying to suppress the instinct to curl my arms around my chest. _'My ribs.' _Having been so preoccupied with Voltaire's mind games, I had completely forgotten about the beating my body had just taken. Now the pain was coming back with a vengeance. I run a couple of fingers over my ribs, breath hitching when they pass over a slightly misshapen form.

_'Broken… That is… not good.' _The urge to curse rises again, but I push it back down. I have neither the tools nor the time to deal with a broken rib. More than that, my knowledge on the subject was severely lacking.

I need a hospital.

_'But, I have to be twenty-one or older to validate my own procedures… otherwise I need a guardian… or the doctors will take their own prerogative. And **that**… is unacceptable.'_

I let out a rush of air between clenched teeth, squeezing my eyes closed. _'Dead ends… no matter where I look.'_

"**_I_I **_Hey, hey, what are you doing? Dammit kid, why I put up with your kind is beyond me. **I**_**I**" Orlov's gruff voice is heard once more and I become aware of someone's heavy footsteps coming toward me. I feel more than see, a hand reaching out to grab my arm—to drag me physically to the door—but I am moving long before it reaches me.

"**_I_I ****_Do not _**_touch me. **I**_**I**" I growl, the Russian flowing from my lips so easily, I might have been speaking it all along. I look up at Orlov fiercely, while the fingers of my left hand curl around the man's sinewy neck. Unable to get my hand completely around the thickness of his neck, I settle for wrapping it around the artery which leads to the brain.

"**_I_I **_So, the brat speaks. **I**_**I**" Orlov spits out. My hand tightens in warning and Orlov gasps, his eyes rolling a little. He must be feeling faint. "**_I_I **_Go ahead. Just try and kill me, we'll see what Master Boris does to you then. **I**_**I**" Orlov sneers.

I return his look with a sneer of my own. "**_I_I **_You fool. I don't have to kill you. I just have to squeeze a bit tighter… **I**_**I**" In emphasis, I tighten my hold, watching in detached satisfaction as the man's face completely drains of colour. "**_I_I **_And you'll be out like a light in a few seconds. The real question is: what happens after you wake up? **I**_**I**" I jerk my head up, mockingly requesting a response. Words seem to fail the man and he just growls incoherently, Confusion clear in his muddy eyes. "**_I_I **_Well… I haven't done this in awhile… Done improperly it could, possibly, result in permanent paralyzation. **I**_**I**" I send a slow, unconcerned look trailing down my hand and arm, then drag my gaze back up to look into Orlov's eyes, letting my own eyes show sadistic enjoyment which I don't feel. Orlov is easily fooled though and his eyes get a wide, panicky look to them.

"**_I_I **_Let—let me go. **I**_**I**" He says hoarsely. I cock an eyebrow at him and don't move. "**_I_I **_P-please, have mercy. **I**_**I**"

Begging.

I feel my expression contort into one of disgust. Begging. How pathetic. Immediately, I jerk my fingers off Orlov's flesh and pull away. Orlov heaves in gulps of air, while stumbling back a few steps drunkenly. I watch him. He must still be feeling light-headed.

"**_I_I **_You. You're just like they all say. **I**_**I**" Apparently not light-headed enough to curb his tongue. I continue watching him as he slurs out his words. "**_I_I **_You're crazy. Absolutely insane. Unbalanced. A savage. Demon. **I**_**I**" I let my eyes follow his staggering form lazily, in a way I know is unsettling. Indeed, Orlov seems more eager to leave by the second. It occurs to me, vaguely, how completely idiotic it is to tell someone they are crazy… especially if you think they really are. I brush the idle thought away.

"**_I_I **_What the HELL is going on in here?! **I**_**I**" Boris is now at the door, regarding the pitiful guard with barely restrained fury. Seeing the potentially incriminating scene in front of him, Boris hurriedly enters the room, closing the door behind him. "**_I_I **_I told you to get him out of the room, not to get into a fight with him! And **especially **not to broadcast it to the entire world! Someone could have **seen **you, you imbecile! **I**_**I**"

"**_I_I **_My-my apologies, Master Boris. **I**_**I**" Orlov chokes. I raise an eyebrow at his antics. Surely he must have recovered by now; I did not hold him all that hard… "**_I_I **_But he attacked me! Out of nowhere he just grabbed me by the neck and—! **I**_**I**"

Oh. I see.

I look away. Orlov is trying to pin the entire incident on me. _'Too bad' _I think. _'Boris knows me well enough not to believe I would attack someone without reason.' _Then my thoughts pause as a disturbing point occurs to me.

_'How would Boris know such a thing?… How would **I **know that Boris knows such a thing?'_

A particularly deep breath causes my ribs to throb, bringing me back to the present. I look up, just in time to see Boris dismiss the browbeaten guard from the room and turn toward me. With the absence of the guard, Boris switches back to English.

"Ah, I just can't leave you alone for a few minutes, can I?" As with all things that come out of Boris' mouth, this too seems to have a second, hidden meaning. But finding myself not in the mood for his little games, I step forward, fully intending to shoulder my way past him and into the other room.

His hand snaps out, grabbing me tightly by the forearm.

I freeze.

"What is it… about my touch… and only my touch, that prevents you from lashing out?" Boris asks lowly, his attention solely on my arm as he turns it over gently, sliding his hand down then raising the back of my hand to his eyes. I look up, finding it difficult to swallow, but forcing my self to remain calm. I look up, past my arm and into his eyes.

"If anyone else did this," And he runs his dry, calloused fingers over my inner wrist, my own hand twitches in response. "They would be on the floor, unconscious in seconds flat… Or strangled, like poor Orlov." At this, Boris gives a dry, grating chuckle. "Could it be… that you are _afraid_ of me?" His laugh ends in a curling grin.

"Let go of me." I say it slowly, in a low, humourless voice.

Boris laughs again. "But my dear boy, I haven't gotten the answer to my question yet!"

I look at him.

"Tell me something, _Kai_." He smirks even as I frown. Odd, how strange my name sounds coming out of his mouth. Like something I am not used to hearing, something awkward… Why? I realize then that this is the first time I heard Boris actually speak my name… Last year, he had said it, once or twice as well… and it had sounded just as unusual then…

…In the Abbey, didn't I have a name?

"Tell me," and his smirk widens into a feral grin. His fingers slip under the cloth of my armguard, I jerk away but with sheer force he keeps my arm steady. Then with sudden and precise maliciousness, he plunges his nails into a spot on my arm and scratches outward. My mouth opens in a silent exclamation of pain and my elbow buckles, causing me to take an involuntary step toward him. Boris raises an eyebrow and continues like he hadn't just dug his fingers into my arm. "When did you start falling back into such old habits?"

"I… have not idea what you are talking about." I grit out around my teeth.

"Oh?" Boris looks faintly amused. "Then what are these?" And he draws back my armguard with the tips of his fingers, just enough to expose the long, scabbing cuts along my arm. I stare at the slightly swollen, still angry red flesh. Had it only been yesterday that I did that? It seems like such a long time ago…

The cut which Boris had dug his nails into had reopened and was now steadily dribbling blood down my arm in rolling, thick beads. Eventually, the trail reaches Boris' fingers and bulges over them. Seemingly fascinated by the blood, Boris draws his hand away from my arm—I waste no time in pulling my arm away and securing the armguard over the cut, concealing it from view once more—and I watch with sick revulsion as Boris raises his fingers to his lips and tastes my blood, eyeing me with apparent satisfaction.

Disgust can no longer adequately describe my feelings toward him.

"Your Grandfather would be _ever _so disappointed, Kai. To think, he spent so much time _rehabilitating _you from that habit. What would he say if he knew you'd fallen back into such… oh, what did he call it? 'Base tendencies: worse even, than an animal.' What do you think he would do?"

And now, a tingle of fear runs through me. Grandfather can never find out. _Will _never find out. My expression goes from wide-eyed to glaring in an instant. Boris just smiles, showing off a row of yellow teeth.

"Don't worry, my firebird. I can keep your little secret. After all, I believe you're allowed a mistake every now and again. You're only human, after all."

_'How dare they, all of them. Trying to take control over my life like this. I am the master of my own life. It is **not **within their right to tell me if my actions are right or wrong…' _And yet here they were, doing just that.

"I just want you to do one little thing for me." Boris leans forward and I lean back, scowling. "I want to know; do you remember the first time you did this? Do you remember why?"

I frown. What was Boris talking about? The first time I did this… I look down at the cuts on my arm. The first time… A heavy fog settles in my mind. Was there ever a first time? Why can't I remember?

"_Hear me, believe me and fear me!_" Boris' voice is a harsh whisper near my ear. "Take those words into your heart, my firebird, and remember! Remember what made you into the person you are now."

I flinch as a bright light flashes in my vision. Those words… I remember… those words…

_'Hear me!'_

_'Believe me!'_

_'Fear me!'_

The world dissolves.

* * *

'**;**.**;**' _Flash _'**;**.**;**'

* * *

_"From now on, you are the property of BIOVOLT. We own you: we tell you when to eat, train, sleep and when to think. You will not disobey the orders of BIOVOLT. Or you will die. You will not associate with anyone outside of BIOVOLT. Or they will die. You will not incite treachery of BIOVOLT in any of your brothers. Or your heart will be cut out and fed to the dogs._

_This is your life now. You no longer have any connections outside of BIOVOLT._

_You will follow the teachings of the priest and you will follow the teachings of the Lord. Any action of blasphemy will be punished with a hundred lashes on the pole._

_Hear me! Believe me! And fear me! From now on, I am you truth, and I am your Master. You will refer to me as such."_

_"We live to hear and obey your command, Master Boris!"_

_I look out at the new recruits. Many are orphans and street kids, with no discipline or skills. They will not last long. But here and there I see a spark of talent—this is significantly subdued by the presence of fear, but it is normal. All the new recruits go through this process. Boris believes it instils a healthy humility in the otherwise cocky, arrogant bastards. I have no opinion either way._

_"You will show your skills to the Abbey, you will put your talent on exhibition for us to judge. Those deemed worthy will be admitted into the elite folds of our association. Those deemed unworthy, will face punishment administered by our Blue-Fourth."_

_Here, every eye in the room turns to me. I maintain my empty stare, gazing out into the crows with cold, apathetic eyes._

_It is all part of the act. In reality, I am treated no better than the lowest grunt in the Abbey. But during times like this, Boris likes to show off my talents, and toy with the minds of the impressionable._

_I know very well what I look like, standing up on a raised platform and looking out on all the others as though they were beneath me. For these particular occasions, Boris takes great enjoyment in decking me in a garment made completely of black. With black shoes, black pants, black shirt and a black mini-cape that drapes around my shoulders—fastening at my collarbone with a high, severe neck and reaching as far down as my elbows—my already too-pale skin looks positively ghostly. That, offset by the feral, relatively new tattoos on my cheeks and my bloody red eyes makes me look like nothing short of a demon._

_This vision, of course, is helped along by the practiced, emotionless stare I continue to bestow upon my audience._

_I hear hushed whispers circulating below me. Already the rumours are spreading. I wonder what they will say about me this time._

_I watch in a detached, disinterested fashion as one after another the new recruits fail to overcome the standard computer tests. They are embarrassing to watch, really, each time the talent gets less and less, and yet the number of desperate, hungry orphans never wanes._

_And desperate they must truly be, to want to get into the Abbey._

_The testing continues, for hours, until one of the boys breaks line and starts to scream nonsensically. 'Enough, enough', he cries. 'No more.' The guards have to come out and physically remove him from the room._

_I let my eyes follow his form as he is dragged out of the room. I too, have a very specific part to play, and I have no doubt that the remaining boys are watching me trace the path of the fallen boy with my eyes. Boris planned it all, specifically to incite overactive imaginations and gossip. I heard a rumour once, where I had been thought of to be a vengeful demon, sent down to devour the souls of the poor and unkind, that I constantly hungered for more, tasty souls to feed on, fresher souls, cleaner souls…_

_My eyes move back over to the group._

_Finally, after many more hours and a string of consecutive matches, a young boy—probably barely a couple of years older than me—is hauled in front of me and dropped at my feet._

_"What? This is it? You wan' me to fight THIS guy? He's awfully puny up close, I gots dogs bigger then 'im." The boy grins down at me in a typical, cocksure, streetwise way. My quiet, impassive stare seems to unravel him after a few minutes though and he looks vaguely uncomfortable. "Hey," He says, fidgeting. "Doncha' talk or something? You some sort of mute or something?"_

_"The Blue-Fourth does not need to waste his breath on someone as unworthy as you." Boris says smoothly as he glides up behind me. I don't look up at him, don't even acknowledge him. This is the one time when my insolence is allowed, even expected. I am above anyone here, because I do not need to bow my head to Boris. It is a subliminal message, one I can see this boy does not miss. He looks more unsettled now, eyes darting back and forth._

_"H-hey, what's goin' on here anyways? I thought you'd just get us to fight this guy then let us go or something…"_

_Boris chuckles. It is an unpleasant sound. "Oh, we'll let you leave. After you win."_

_"No prob!" The cockiness is back. "I could beat this little weakling with one hand and a blindfold over my eyes!"And he grins at me in a challenging way. His complete lack of revulsion and disdain is new to me. It is not often that I see someone who can look me straight in the eyes and not flinch._

_For the first time, I feel a twinge of pain in my chest. This boy could have had potential. Maybe not as a Beyblader, but as _something_. He was honest, hardworking and—more than anything else— innocent. He could have gone far in life. The pain recedes though as I throw every part of myself, every emotion, every feeling, into a compartment in the back of my mind. I am empty._

_That boy is going to regret ever saying those words._

* * *

'**;**.**;**' _Flash _'**;**.**;**'

* * *

I gasp out loud and shake my head, one hand coming up to curl tightly in my hair near my temple. A low chuckle makes me look up sharply, blinking the spots in my vision away as I focus on Boris.

"So it's true. Your memories are finally returning." Boris sounds smug.

"Be quiet." I order, turning away sharply while forcibly detaching my hand from my hair. _'How does he know about those flashes?... How… when did he see? How did he find out? Memories? Could it be true? No…no…' _"Do not talk about things you don't understand."

"Oh but I _do _understand, Fifty-seven." Boris' voice is low and vile. "I know exactly what is happening to you."

I turn, just enough to pin him with a glare. Who does he think I am? Yes, of course I want to know why I am having these hallucinations. But never, _never,_ will I lower myself enough to ask _him _for answers.

"Fool boy, didn't you know: in Russia, even the _alleys _have eyes." The smirk seems to be permanently plastered on his sallow face.

Then the words sink in.

_'Of course.' _I curse my thoughtlessness. _'When I collapsed in that alley… how could I have been naïve enough to think that no one saw me?'_

"Whatever." A defensive fallback word, I know, but I am past the point of caring. "I'm leaving." I turn around.

"Fine." Boris' words follow me. "Leave, I won't stop you…" _'Yet' _is the implied ending to that sentence.

I put my hand on the brass handle, opening the door with a wrench.

"**_I_I **_Don't you ever wonder, though, **I**_**I**" Boris switches to Russian as loud chatter from the adjoining room flows in; he won't stop speaking. "**_I_I **_Why you feel the urge to curse? And why—when you're upset or agitated— your speech gets more informal… more… vulgar? **I**_**I**"

I leave the room.

* * *

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**_End Chapter Twenty-Three_**

**_… To Be Continued_**

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Heya! I added new dividers, what do you guys think?

**fawks136:**Yeah, Mariah and Emily completely got out of hand describing Kai XD. In a way I kinda aim to inspire all sorts of different reactions in my writing, and Mariah and Emily are actually supposed to be sort of in-your-face like that… so in a way I'm kinda glad you were unsettled by their blabbing (it means I'm doing my job XD) . I know it sounds weird… XP That explanation really did make more sense in my head :D

**juut Telcontar:** (Grin) Yep! Poor, poor Hilary… and to think, she hasn't even _talked_to Kai yet! XD Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

**WolfRain: **Hey! I'm glad you like the character developments so far. I really enjoy writing details and going into lots of depth when describing characters (particularly why certain characters do what they do, _why _they do it and what motivates them to do it, that kind of stuff) and sometimes I wonder if I'm boring you guys by going into _too much _detail… so it's really nice to hear that you like it :P Oh, and yeah, Montreal was fun, the language thing was a bit of a problem (I can understand French.. but speak it? _Not_so much XD), but now I'm going to Portugal! And I know absolutely NO Portuguese, so I have NO idea how that's gonna work! (Wish me luck! :3)

**Sciura: **(Large grin) Heeey, I know that starting a new story might make it seem like I'd have less time for this one, but really, I've actually been writing that story in my spare time anyway XP See, when I get a story idea I have this tendency to be bugged and _bugged _by it until I write it down… that's what happened with that story… so I figured that if I was gonna write the story anyway, I might as well post it, right? Thanks so much though for your comment, it means a lot to me that you like this story so much (hope you liked the chapter!).

**Irish Potatoes: **Yay! Awesomeness! You wouldn't BELIEVE how long it took me to write that chapter (I got a major case of writer's bock, then had to scrap the entire thing, rewrite it and completely change the order of the scenes… it was a total mess XD). So it's so, incredibly great that you liked it! Yay! So, more action, drama and manipulation in this chapter, hope you liked… I had a little trouble writing Voltaire's speech, what did you think?

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**See you all when I come back from Portugal!**

Oh, and please tell me what you thought of Voltaire and Kai's interaction! I slaved over that section for hours and now I have gone completely blind to it XD Was it effective? Clear? Understandable? And also: Boris, what did you think about him? I know it's used, but did I at least manage to deliver his character in a relatively original manner? Or even creepy? XP

**Thankies to everyone who reviewed! Your reviews drive me to keep writing: Yuliya, Canyx, terraconnon876, Kais-lil-lover, BloodRedViolet, d1bontemp, kavbj, grimnessreaper, fawks136, juut Telcontar, lady KCassandra, En-En-chan (How far along the story are you now? :D), WolfRain, Nameless Little Girl, FlamingIce94, The Demon Puppeteer, XSilentX-XShadowsX, bladz-liska, Sciura, phoenix-falling, StarShinobi, Irish Potatoes, Retaro0, wolf's lament, Black zodiac, Kai's-Suzaku, silent-kei and Chibi-Lothlen!**

**Adio!**


	27. Our Time is Running Out

**Chapter 24**

Uh huh! I'm back (again!) Portugal was awesome, warm and fun, but it's still good to be back home XD… Oh my goodness… 400 reviews?! I'm speechless… and very, very happy. Thank you, everyone!

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Beyblade

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**KEY**

**¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤ -- **denotes a change in point of view

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Enjoy!

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

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_"You can fool all the people some time, and some of the people all time, but you cannot fool all the people all the time." _

—Abraham Lincoln (1809-1865)

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**Chapter 24:** **_Our Time is Running Out_**

"Eli what are we going to do? What are we going to do? We can't just run away like before, we have children now, Mikhail and Sonya are only five, they won't be able to survive the trip, especially not during the winter!" Mrs. Huo, speaking in rapid, frantic Chinese, paced before the stone fireplace fitfully. Having run out of food, and grievously understaffed in the absence of their houseguest, they had been forced to close the restaurant early. Now, with this newest discovery, Shiori Huo's already frayed nerves were close to snapping.

"Shiori, you're overacting." Her husband, Eligio Huo, spoke calmly as he leaned against the polished, dark bar top. "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about."

"Nothing to worry about, nothing to worry about you say…" Shiori murmured to herself, a burst of slightly hysterical laughter leaving her. "There is a _man _standing outside our restaurant… doing absolutely nothing. He hasn't moved, hasn't talked to anyone on the street, hasn't even _popped a bloody cigar _in the past three hours _and you're trying to tell me to relax?_"

"Shiori…" Eli sighed.

"They've found us, Eli." Shiori turned to her husband, her green eyes wide with fear and auburn hair spilling loose from its ponytail in her frenzied pacing. "I knew it was only a matter of time. We should have never come back to Russia. We should've never…"

Eli let out a breath of air and looked toward the shuttered windows, his round glasses glinting in the light from the fireplace. They had pulled down the blackout curtains for the night, but behind them, Eli knew, there was a man standing outside in the snow—thick bear-skin jacket pulled around a robust frame, dark cap covering shady eyes—waiting, indeterminably… for something. "If you're that worried, we can pack up and leave for the border in the morning." He said.

"And go where!?" Shiori cried.

"I don't know!" He shouted back, her anxiety starting to eat at his own composure. "We can go West; we can go South—wherever as long as we don't end up back in China. I won't spend another day in that country. Go, pack up your things and the twins'. We'll leave first thing in the morning."

Eli's last words seemed to strike some realization into Shiori as she suddenly halted in her pacing. She straightened and stared at Eli for a moment, mouth slightly open, before looking away quickly. "But we can't. Kolya is coming back tomorrow…" She thought back to last night when she'd seen him leave. With those blue triangles painted on his cheeks, squared shoulders and solemn demeanour… he'd looked like he was going to war.

"Honestly," Eli rolled his eyes. "There is no guarantee that kid even went to Moscow. He probably just got tired of this gig, packed up his stuff and hitchhiked out on the first truck that came by. Have you seen that room we loaned him? It's empty."

"Don't say that about him." Shiori frowned. "He's a nice boy. Stayed with us for an entire year. And he will be back… he'll probably even take the midnight train, even though I told him not to."

"Shiori, you worry too much about that kid." Eli strode over to his wife and took her hands in his. She looked up into his dark eyes. "He'll be fine, that boy is tougher than a set of nails and he'll survive anything the world throws at him. But we… we have a family, and a life here. We have Sonya and Mikhail and we have to think of them first." Eli sent a significant look at the darkened hallway leading up to their children's room. "And if that man outside is really one of _them _then we can expect more of them to come knocking soon… like cockroaches, they never stay away." Eli chuckled.

"…" Shiori gave a tiny smile that didn't reach her eyes and looked down. When Eli's hands tightened around hers she looked up again. "Yes."

"Yes what?" Eli cocked an eyebrow.

"Yes, we'll leave. But not tomorrow, I need to say good-bye to Kolya." Shiori's voice was firm. She would not be moved.

Eli moved away from her, groaning. "What you see in that kid…"

"Is what you would see too; if you would only stop and look." She said stubbornly.

"Fine, fine. Whatever. But come tomorrow if you find more of _his _kind" Eli waved at the window, signifying the unknown man standing outside "Banging down the door, taking away our children to experiment on and God knows what else, you won't be able to blame _me _for it."

Shiori looked hurt by Eli's cruel words "How can you even say such a thing Elio H—!"

"_You will not speak that name in this house!_" Eli's sharp words cut through anything Shiori would have said and shocked her into silence. For many moments nothing was said as husband and wife stared at each other: one with suppressed anger, the other in muted alarm.

"Look," Eli eventually continued, turning away and changing the topic completely. "If you insist on waiting around for that kid then I insist on having my outing tomorrow. You will not keep me from living my life."

Shiori was quiet, looking down at the sleeves of her dress as she fiddled with them. "Fine." She agreed at length. Finding her courage, she raised her head. "Then you will not go to the Society meeting tonight."

The Society meeting was one of the last dregs of communism still remaining in the city. Formally the Marxist Society, its purpose had once been to instil proper communistic beliefs in the proletariat community. Now it remained as a handy way for the government to give self-aggrandizing speeches and keep tabs on the general public's movements. Attendance was mandatory, and with the thin line the Huo's already walked—being, not only foreigners, but also owning a restaurant in the poorer district—their movements in particular were closely watched.

"What, now you want the government breathing down our necks too?" Eli said disdainfully, his back to his wife.

"Of course not." Shiori waved his comment away, well used to his critical nature. "Lev and his friends always stop by to pick you up, right? Well, you can just tell them to sign you in. You've done that favour for them many times, they can't refuse. And I won't let you go out there, returning at some ungodly hour, stinking of alcohol, while there is a _man _watching the house. You are not going. No one will notice you're missing just this one time."

"Huh," Eli turned, mood decidedly spoiled, he headed toward the doorway that lead upstairs. "For all our sakes, I hope you're right." And he disappeared into the hallway.

Shiori waited until she heard Eli's heavy steps go all the way up the creaking, wooden staircase before heading toward the window. With a small, delicate hand, she eased the edges of the black curtain to the side with her fingertips until she could peek out onto the streets.

The sky had already darkened, and snow fell in slow, lazy balls of cotton. Inside the restaurant, with its cozy, glowing fireplace and warm, cushioned seats, Shiori felt safe. But this dark window into the unknown was a cruel reminder of reality.

The glass of the window was frozen and Shiori's breath left her in a puff of vapour that fogged up the window. Outside it was cold and dangerous. The sky was utterly black and streetlights hung like ghostly orbs in the dark, casting misty circles of white light onto the snow.

And there, on the sidewalk right across the street, a man stood in a bearskin coat and thick cap. Like a statue he stood still and did not move, despite the freezing air Shiori could hear whistling through the cracks in the window. She put one slender finger on the window and drew it away quickly as the cold bit at her skin, but the man outside showed no sign that the subzero temperature even affected him. Heavy hands were thrust into heavy pockets and a square, resolute, unshaven jaw-line was visible underneath the furry cap he wore. The upper half of the man's face was hidden in deep shadow but Shiori had no doubt that the man was staring directly at her restaurant.

Directly at _her_.

Shiori pulled away from the window with a gasp and the heavy curtain fell back to obscure the dark man, a poor attempt to hide her from reality.

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'**;**.**;**' _Back at the Moscow Beyblade Pavilion_

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Voltaire was calm: face smoothed into an expression of complete apathy, he could look out into the world with an aloof, disdainful eye—One that stood above all others. His was an understanding rooted in values much deeper than that of a simple human. Instead of floundering pathetically in the pool of life, he would become a powerful tributary, leading meagre shallows to be absorbed by the Ocean. An Ocean which encompassed all, and held a true significance.

A significance much greater than that of the tainted lives Voltaire's slighting eyes were forced to suffer every day.

This significance was the true purpose of life. And it was his goal to achieve, as it had been his Mother's, and as it had been of many, great Hiwatari that had walked the Earth before him. But where his ancestors could only boast of genius hypotheses and conjecture, theirs was a legacy of mere supposition. None of them had ever come as near to their goal as he did now. No, none of them had had their ultimate goal within their very _grasp_. A ripe field waiting for the farmer's plough. And Voltaire would not let this beautiful opportunity slip from his fingers again. Not after the years of research, of preparation and careful grooming. No, Voltaire was the last of the pure line. It had to happen in his lifetime or the entire work of generations of his clan would have been in vain. But Voltaire could not rush things. He would not rush things.

Voltaire would not let the honour of his family languish through his own impatience.

Kai had the Black Dranzer. It had been Voltaire's one unthinkable fear: that the boy, in a fit of idiocy he had learned from those cretins, would have destroyed the sacred beast. But no, he had trained his Grandson well.

Or perhaps… it was the bond between him and the dark Beast that had grown stronger.

Both options were pleasing to the mind.

But Kai was an unfortunately fragile creature. In spite of Voltaire's careful tending, the boy continued to lash out, possessed by a rebellious streak spawned from nothing Voltaire could understand.

A movement in the corner of his vision caught Voltaire's eye. In his peripheral vision, Voltaire watched as Kai slowly emerged from the board room, turned left and continued walking—following the direction of the wall. Voltaire continued to watch, even as Kai's hands balled into fists at his sides and his jaw tensed with clenched teeth. But when one hand rose, wavering, to gain support from the wall, Voltaire turned his eyes away in disgust.

"To think he has forgotten so much." Voltaire spoke in low Russian, seemingly directing his words to the air.

"It can be considered, my Lord, that his memory loss since the Abbey would be at fault." Boris, likewise speaking in Russian, stepped up from behind Voltaire to stand at the elder man's side. The Director's voice was monotonous with careful ambiguity, but it did not veil the double meaning in the words.

"He did not learn his lessons merely from your Abbey." Voltaire's response was a bland murmur, but the insinuation was clear and Boris swallowed, lowering his head apologetically even as his eyes flashed resentfully. "In fact," Voltaire's voice turned into a slow drawl as raised his head to regard Boris evenly. "I believe it was _I _who had to rehabilitate him from _your _Abbey."

"My Lord," Boris protested, looking up. "I—"

"Boris…" When Voltaire spoke, Boris had no choice but the fall silent; and so he did—bringing his teeth together with a sharp snap. "Save your little excuses for the social workers. If you want to do something useful then I suggest you keep an eye on your officious student before he does something indiscreet." And with that said, Voltaire turned and walked away.

Though he may have desired to say something rather 'indiscreet' himself, Boris bit his tongue and instead turned his sharp gaze onto his boys.

They were as they'd been for the past hour: obediently motionless near the couch Boris had told them to stay by. There was Spencer, like a rock, standing behind the couch, with Ian seated in front of him. And Bryan, face colder than the winds of Siberia, standing stolidly to the side. And finally, there was Tala. Boris' eyes alighted on his most promising student. Tala's back was straight and his eyes were forward. There was no weakness in his demeanour. Hiwatari, the old man, was loosing his touch.

Speaking of Hiwatari…

Boris' gaze narrowed as he searched out the younger Hiwatari and spotted him heading into the washrooms. The fool boy couldn't even take a few hits. Where was that infamous Hiwatari pride now?

That was the difference between his dear Firebird and Tala. Kai was unique and gifted, and that talent had brought arrogance and a sense of entitlement to his attitude. An attitude that had only worsened since his time with his self-righteous Grandfather.

Tala though, never questioned his lot in life. He knew he belonged under Boris' foot, and he was happy to stay there. Tala would grow and flourish into a fearsome weapon, but he would always be Boris' weapon. And behind him Bryan, Spencer and Ian would always follow. Boris could think of nothing better.

It was one of the few times Boris allowed himself to feel pride, and his chest swelled with it. He did not feel pride in his students, no. It was what he himself had accomplished, given this ragged bunch of useless bodies, that made Boris proud.

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'**;**.**;**' _In some unnamed, dark, dusty duct in the Moscow Beyblade Pavilion's ventilation system_

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In theory, it had been the perfect plan. The ventilation system of the Moscow Beyblading Pavilion was supposed to have been kept in a state of relative cleanliness. Moreover, the entire building had been closed off for a very exclusive, very private, international Beyblade meeting. So, simply put, no one was likely to be crawling around the ventilation ducts… Unless of course, the bladers were inclined that way.

Which was unlikely.

That was why it had been the perfect plan: sneak in through the ducts, no one would ever have suspected it.

Although, in hindsight, it probably would have been a good idea to have brought a flashlight.

Understandably though, it had not been one of the boy's first thoughts, his entire focus being mostly on the mantra he kept muttering to himself.

"Must get to Tyson. Must get to Tyson. Must…"

Oddly enough, the words the boy muttered were in Japanese.

Unfortunately, while crawling around the pitch black ducts, the boy managed to stir up quite a large cloud of dust in the not-so-very-clean ventilation system. And it was with great difficulty that the boy tried to ignore the gradually aggrandizing need to sneeze as the airborne dust teased his nostrils mercilessly.

Eventually, the sensation became too much for the boy to handle. Not feeling particularly finicky, the boy didn't bother to restrain himself from the heavy sneeze that exploded from his nose, nor could he defeat Newton's Third Law which sent him careening backward onto a thin grating which, in turn, fell through. And the boy was sent downward, somersaulting in midair as he fell out of the ventilation ducts.

Technically, this act should have worked in the boy's favour, since previously he'd just been crawling blindly through the ducts. Regrettably, it was not the boy's lucky day and as he fell downward his back slammed into the wall, right onto the light switch, plunging the entire room into sudden darkness.

No sooner had the boy hit the ground was he back on his feet, brushing the dust off his fraying jeans and ripped t-shirt and shaking the cobwebs out of his head.

Confused voices and shouts pierced the darkness around him and the boy's head snapped up. He realized that he'd found the room he'd been looking for and gave himself a mental pat on the back for a job well done.

"I knew I could do it. Stupid bouncers had no idea who they were dealing with!" The boy cried triumphantly, still speaking in Japanese.

"Now," The boy sobered, putting a hand over his eyes and gazing out into the dark room with squinted eyes. "Tyson's around here somewhere…"

Unable to discern one area of darkness from another, the boy realized he was going to have to take a more hands-on approach if he wanted to find Tyson. So, squaring his shoulders and bending his knees, the boy took a running leap into the air.

"OW! Something just landed on me!" There was a loud thump and a crash as the squishy thing the boy had landed on crumpled under him sending him rolling across the floor.

Not to be discouraged, the boy hopped back up to his feet and struck out blindly into the room once more, only this time he'd developed a war cry:

"TYSON! I'm gonna get you! Me an' Strata Dragoon are gonna cream you!!"

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'**;**.**;**' _In Another Area of the Room_

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When the lights went off in the room, Tala didn't question, he reacted. Jumping instantly to his feet, he immediately made to move away from the couch when a rough hand grabbed him by the arm. Tala couldn't so much as see the hand on his arm, let alone its owner. Nonetheless, Tala knew instantly who it was that had grabbed him.

"Tala what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Loud voices screamed senseless words and obscenities through the room as fear of the dark gripped the most famous Beyblade teams in the world; but Tala was oblivious to them.

"Let me go, Bryan." Tala growled.

A loud thud and noisy crash sounded from somewhere to Tala's left. More anxious calls and yelling followed.

"No." Came the cold answer.

"I need to do this Bryan." Tala tugged on his arm, it stayed firm in Bryan's hold. Tala could hear the bodiless voices in the dark clearly now, they were calling for someone to find the light switch. Tala scowled. "Now stop being an ass about it and let me go."

"Tala, I am not going to risk my neck just because you need to have some pathetic heart-to-heart with that spoiled brat." Bryan said. Tala could practically see the disapproving frown on the older boy's face.

"Then do it because I'm asking you to." Tala growled back. "Listen, Bryan, this conversation between me and Kai has been long in coming. I can't wait anymore. And look, if I get the answer I want, then we'll all be better off, get it?"

"And if you don't?" Bryan's voice was cynical.

"If I don't…" Tala was quiet for a few seconds. "Then you won't hear me bring it up again. It's a win-win for you, don't you think?"

"If you don't get caught."

More confused yelling came from the dark, and Tala could hear Mr. Dickenson calling desperately for everyone to calm down.

Tala forced himself not to explode at Bryan. "Bryan, I don't have much time. Let. Me. Go."

Without another word, Bryan's hand fell away from Tala's arm; and Tala wasted no time in running straight toward the bathroom.

"Delusional fool." Bryan muttered when Tala was out of earshot.

"Don't worry, Bryan, Tala will get back before Boris even gets the chance to blink! He's always careful about stuff like that." Ian's voice was unconcerned.

Bryan was silent.

"I think…" Spencer said slowly. "That Boris isn't the one Bryan's afraid will hurt Tala…"

"Huh?" Ian asked, confused.

"Spencer, shut up." Bryan's eyes closed as he listened to the havoc ensue around him in the lightless room.

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This… is not my day.

The painstaking walk to the washroom was made all the better by the sudden, violent urge to vomit that hit me seconds after passing the door.

I stagger, lurching toward the sink, only just barely making it in time. The contractions in my stomach rattle my ribs badly. It's as though a metal clamp has tightened around my ribcage, crushing it and sending sparks of white-hot pain lancing up my spine, making my head spin and my knees buckle. The breath rushes out of me in a gasp and I put on hand to my abdomen, mentally willing the urge to vomit to pass.

Shock making my thoughts hazy, I snap out one hand to turn on the faucet, then—the pungent smell of nausea making me ill—I shove away from the sink, away from the odour.

Unfortunately, I've overestimated even my own limits, and it is only when I feel the top half of my body moving faster than the lower half that I realize I'm falling.

I stumble backwards, and my back hits the wall with the resounding slap of sweat-slicked skin against tile. Exhaustion, physical and mental, weighs down my body and I slide to the ground, bare arms squeaking against the wall.

Collapsed on the ground, I see there's an adjacent wall next to me and I shuffle toward it sluggishly. Pressed well into the corner, I lay my burning face against the wall with a grateful sigh. The throbbing in my head recedes somewhat… enough for me to think clearly. I notice that my mouth tastes stale and manage to pull myself to my feet to gargle in a clean sink.

Wiping my mouth, I retreat back to the corner, but remain standing, watching silently as the last of my sickness washes down the sink and the sent slowly fades from the room.

I breath. In. Out. My ribs twinge unhappily. I frown.

Now what?

There is a warm pulsing sensation in my pocket and I put a hand over Dranzer, conveying to her my desire that she not emerge. She bristles and I can feel her annoyance, and concern, resonate in my head. But she listens. Silently, I express my gratitude, rubbing my thumb in circles over her bit.

A loud slam knocks me back to my senses and I look up with vague alarm as someone barrels into the bathroom.

Tala.

An intake of breath is caught with clenched teeth and my eyes shoot to the sink, glad now that I'd had the presence of mind to turn on the faucet. The sink is washed clean, but a slight, putrid smell still permeates the air, and as I look into the mirror I see the blue triangles on my face stand out strikingly against pasty, clammy skin.

Tala's eyes are wide.

"What happened to you, Kai?"

My head turns, slowly, until my eyes are level with Tala's.

Now what?

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**_End Chapter Twenty-Four_**

**_…To Be Continued _**

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Hey all, yup, short(er) chapter, but I wanted to update before the end of the month… or something… and I'm trying to find a balance between chapters that are too long and too short… 'Trying' being the operative word in that sentence XD Tell me though, was the transition between people and points of view clear, or confusing? I was trying something a little different with that chapter and I'm not sure how well it worked. Thanks!

**Canyx: **Heya! Yeah, I know you have an account, but you reviewed anonymously, and… well… I just figured I'd answer you here XD. So wow, you're doing a lot of traveling too, huh? Where did you go? What did you research? I hope you had fun! And yeah, having stuff to do is nice, but every now and again I like to just lazy about and relax… gives me time to come up with story ideas! :P Anyways, I'm glad you liked the interactions… oddly enough I found Boris and all his creepiness fun to write (and I didn't want Kai to come off weak or vulnerable, he's too stubborn for that ;p). But Voltaire was a bit troublesome, I found :3 Anyways, hope you enjoyed the chapter!

**WolfRain: **Oh yes! Um… you know how you asked if I could tell you a bit about my trip? Well, I actually had this huge, long e-mail all typed up, but when I tried to send it, it bounced back! Sorry about that XD I have no idea what happened! Well, anyway, Lisbon is a very nice, beautiful city. It has all these historic architecture and even simple buildings like train stations have intricate carvings. There are a lot of old castles and stuff in Lisbon, which were fun to visit. Oh! And the streets are all paved in white cobblestones. It makes the city look very bright and open. At any rate, I can't make the response here too long, but if you want to hear more details I can certainly send you an e-mail or something! Last thing I want to say is, there will NOT be a tragic ending to this story. No matter what happens. I don't like tragic endings either, so I could never write one :D

**juut Telcontar: **Yay! Glad you liked the Voltaire-Kai interaction. Voltaire is supposed to be a complicated but very charismatic man who has this commanding aura when he walks into the room… Unfortunately, a character like that doesn't come easily to me, so I had to work just to write a few lines for him XD And really? You might like Boris more than Voltaire? :P Actually, I think they both have their own charm… in a weird, evil way XD Oh, and you can bet that Mr. Granger is planning something, Voltaire can't have get everything he wants THAT easy! XP And Portugal was great, thanks!

**400th reviewer: **YES! Indeed you are awesome, being my four-hundredth reviewer you get… a cyber cookie! XD Yeah…um…sorry, I didn't actually have a prize planned and that was all I could think of off the top of my head XP But still! I was waiting for this forever, so thank you so much for reviewing, you completely made my day! Hope you're enjoying the story so far, please tell me what you think when you get to the end!

**Thanks to all my reviewers who continue to inspire me to write: BloodRedViolet, Raykou-Kun, Canyx, Nordwind, wolf's lament, Kai's-Suzaku, Yuliya, ladyofwest, Kais-lil-lover, grimnessreaper, Miako6, FlamingIce94, Chibi-Lothlen, fawks136, d1bontemp, WolfRain, juut Telcontar, Nameless Little Girl, phoenix-falling, kavbj, banan **(I think you just broke your own record for longest review XD)**, bladz-liska, 400th reviewer and kissedbykai.**

**Adio!**


	28. Phantom Pain

**Chapter 25**

19! 19! I've officially had two birthdays with this fic… that's really cool, and also a little weird to think about o.O'

**Disclaimer:** Beyblade and all related characters are property of Takao Aoki.

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**KEY: _I_I**_ …(italics)… **I**_**I **—denotes a change in language (Russian)

—** _I_I**_ **…(bold)…**_ **_I_I **—denotes a second change in language

—** ¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤ **—denotes a change in point of view: from Kai's view to third person

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Enjoy!

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

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_"When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child. But, when I became a man, I put away the things of a child."_

—Bible; 1 Corinthians 13:11

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**Chapter 25: ****_Phantom Pain_**

There was once a time, when I was around nine or ten, that I had a great starvation for human contact. An overwhelming need for attention—affection—would consume my mind: motivating every action I took, lurking behind every decision I made.

And yet, constantly under the vigilant, overbearing eye of my Grandfather, the times I actually found myself in the company of other people—away from the influence of his long shadow—were few and far between.

There were times when I did not leave the house for many days; and this was when the demons in my mind howled and beat their cages loudest.

My Grandmother, when she was alive, was a kindly woman. Always having her hands busy at one project or another, it was rare to ever find her bored or without something to do. Nonetheless, she never failed to put aside time for me. My most vivid memory of her is a sharp, eidetic image: she would be bending over a thick cooking book in the kitchen, silver hair tied back in a messy bun, hands covered in powder as she ponders her next culinary masterpiece. I would walk to her and she would look up, smile, and push a stray piece of hair behind one ear, leaving a long smudge of white flower across one cheek.

But as painfully fond of her as I was—and as much as I valued her attention—she, in her own way, scared me more than Grandfather.

Grandfather's affection was logical and easily understood. I fulfilled a purpose to him. I did well in my studies, performed well in competitions and upheld the family honour—thus he was happy. As long as I did what he wanted—kept him pleased, was _useful _in some manner—he liked me. It was an easy concept to understand.

But Grandmother was not anything like Grandfather. I never had to do anything to make her smile—just walk into the same room as her and her face would break out into a beautiful smile that warmed me and frightened me all at the same time. Whether I came home with successes or failures, her attitude to me never seemed to sway. She was constantly supportive, constantly happy with me and I could not understand it—this unconditional affection she gifted me with.

I always feared the day she would turn her back on me. I worried and fretted over every word I said to her, every gesture—lest it make her mad. Because in a way I had come to depend on her constant, unwavering concern, even as I shunned it. I was always polite with her, always formal. In a way, I think my distance from her hurt her, but I could not help myself. I was scared, so scared that one day I would say something, do something, that would break this fragile bond between us—shatter her regard for me—and make her realize what I really was. I was not this timid, sensitive creature that I played in front of her. I was aggressive, I was cold; I was nothing like what she thought I was.

I used to have these thoughts: thoughts that maybe I did not need Grandmother's affection. Such an incredible strain it was to hide myself, and walk on eggshells whenever I was around her. Was this the way all human interaction was? This painful, this tedious?

Then maybe I didn't want any of it.

But behind the fire of indignant rage, there was always that simmering presence of guilt. How could I shun Grandmother's affection, when she had been kind enough to give it to me in the first place?

I loved her… and hated her… And often I would wonder if it was this beastly hate that prevented me from hearing her collapse, and kept me from finding her in time to save her.

When Grandmother died, I felt nothing but pain for a very long time. And—having nothing to stare at but the cold, black stones of Grandfather's prison for many days on end—I had plenty of time to think upon, and mutilate my notion of this pain.

It was a poor weakness: my concern for other people. I realized that it was my desire to make Grandmother like me that gave me such internal conflict. I realized that making bonds with people required me to give something of my self up to them—and it doing so I made myself vulnerable. I realized… that human interaction was tedious, cumbersome… and pointless… Because if I could not make even my own living relative love me than what chance did I have with any stranger?

And it was then that I learned one of the most important lessons of my short life:

The joy of being alone.

I lived by this principle for many years. It made me haughty and impersonal; aloof. I could complete Grandfather's missions without regret to the victims involved. I was above them; I had my own goals, my own life, and human interaction was not a necessity in that model. For all I cared, the rest of the world could have gone to rot.

And then I met the Bladebreakers.

It is quite amazing, what being stuck in the same room as a bunch of cocky, arrogant, obnoxious brats can do to one after a few months. Certainly, my opinion of them changed throughout the time we spent together—through no lack of effort on their part—but really, after having overcome so many obstacles and having traveled so long together, it comes as no real surprise to me that their well-being had somehow wormed itself into my regard. It was a forced affection.

I do not have a natural tendency to care for people—certainly not strangers—and certainly not this red-head standing before me now.

Who is this boy, to whom I feel obligated to show concern? Who is this Tala, that invokes such buried feelings in me, when I have long since closed myself off from people?

I do not know him, so why do I feel that I should?

"**_I_I**_ What's wrong? What happened? **I**_**I**" Tala, speaking in Russian, voices his concern and breaks through my thoughts.

I suppress a noise growing at the back of my throat—whether a sigh or a snort, I am not sure. Typical Tala; he knows I will not answer to the emotion-driven "Are you okay?" so he is instead he is trying to skirt around the question by asking me to give a fact-based response.

It occurs to me, suddenly, that I should not have this personal insight on Tala's character; and my mood plummets. I remember where I am: in the washroom of the Beyblade Pavilion, Moskva, Russia… in a room adjacent to my Grandfather.

I straighten

"Nothing." I say curtly, in clipped English. My first instinct had been to respond in like to Tala's Russian. But the language repulses me as a potential connection between Tala and myself. By speaking English I am ever increasing the distance between us.

I look at Tala, willing him with an intense stare to _move out of my way_. But he stands firm, blocking the exit from the room.

"**_I_I**_ Kai, I am not a fool. What is going on? **I**_**I**" Tala's eyes stray to my left and I follow them to look down at sink—where the remnants of my illness have long since disappeared—then at the marble counter, around which my hand is still tightly clenched. The tension in my white knuckles is obvious and I scowl at the apparent weakness.

With a definitive shove, I push away from the counter. But I underestimated the support the counter had been giving me. A sharp pain lances up my side, I gasp, a spark in my knees makes my legs buckle and I fall—

"Naar!" A loud cry pierces my ears.

And I remember Tala's presence in the room. Fighting to stay on my feet, I force my feet to move… Barely, just barely, they manage to carry me to the side and my arm slams up against the wall. I cringe as the movement jars my broken rib but I remain clinging to the wall, unable to even move away, for fear that my legs will give out again.

I clench my jaw, teeth gnashing against each other. I feel angry. Angry at myself for being so weak, angry at Voltaire for always putting me in these situations, angry at Boris for enjoying it… and angry at Tala for just being here.

There is a hissing intake of breath, I hear Tala drawing closer. My head still hanging low, I flick my eyes up and see him reaching out to me. Something in my expression makes him hesitate and he draws back.

"**_I_I**_ … Kai… this, this is serious. You can't even stand! What's going on? You… you need a doctor! **I**_**I**"

Tala's exclamation makes my eyes widen. A doctor… No… I cannot afford to be incapacitated. Not now. I will be doing Voltaire's work for him.

There is no choice. My eyes close; I lean the side of my head against the cool, tiled wall.

_Dranzer._

A burst of Phoenix song fills my head and I am sure that Dranzer sounds almost relieved that I called her. Her warmth rises in my chest, easing the tension in my ribs and I take a deep intake of blessed air. The warmth spreads outward, engulfing me like fuzzy bubble. All sense of pain and tiredness fall away not unlike worthless scales shedding off my body, I feel heady at the sudden relief.

But using Dranzer's power like this has a great cost.

The strain it takes to numb my pain takes strength from both her and myself. From her it is a spiritual strength that only time and rest can recover. For me there is a more dangerous consequence. The strength taken is physical, but using Dranzer's energy also has much the same effect on the body as the ingestion of a strong opioid. A quick, initial spike of euphoria, followed by a serene numbness descending like a blanket around the mind—there is a thrill of incredible power that thrums though the veins, tempting with wicked promises to fulfill the darkest of desires. It lasts, and preys on the mind: weakening neurons, inhibiting thought and reason. And when it finally passes, it leaves in its wake a vast wreckage of restlessness, insomnia, illness and paranoia.

Dranzer, who is usually spent after these sessions and confined both body and mind to her blade, has remained innocent of these side effects.

In a Beybattle, it is common for the blader to lend their strength to their linked beast… but the connection is not meant to be used both ways. The human body, frail and fragile, has not the capacity to contain the power of a Bey spirit. In small doses the damage is minimal, such is the nature of the mental link between human and beast, but in large doses what was once a power can become fatal.

More than that, Dranzer has not the ability to heal. So, even though the pain is gone, my rib is undoubtedly still broken—and, guaranteed, once this power of hers fades, I will be left with one nasty headache and a very agitated wound.

I will have to deal with that when the time comes.

Taking another breath—and marveling silently at how much more deeply I can breathe without the stinging pain in my side—I let all thought fade from my mind and compose myself. Slowly, with a fluid, deliberate motion, I detach my hand from the wall and raise my head.

My eyes lock onto Tala's suspicious blue ones. I let my arm fall to my side, then take a step away from the wall. Tala frowns, opens his mouth, but stops when he sees that I am standing unaided. I take another step, but this time I move forward, putting myself right before Tala.

He looks… shocked. It is not so much a change in facial expression that denotes this emotion, more that I can sense the innate feeling from his eyes. Again, I have this unshakable sense that Tala is more than just another stranger.

_'Who are you to me, Tala?'_

"I need no doctor. I am fine." I say clearly to him.

"**_I_I**_ What are you talking about? **I**_**I**" Tala cries indignantly, still speaking in Russian. He obstinately refuses to changes languages—much like I. "**_I_I**_ Two seconds ago you were close to collapsing. Now just because you're putting on your transparent 'tough-guy' act you think I'll forget all about it? C'mon Kai, you know me better than that! **I**_**I**"

One of my eyebrows rises at Tala's last words, but I let the comment slide off me.

"I told you: nothing is wrong." And I step swiftly around Tala, heading toward the door.

"Dammit Kai!" Tala bites out. "Kai!"

I ignore him.

"_Naar!_"

I freeze. Such is the effect of the word on me.

"**_I_I**_ Don't you dare try to deceive me, Naar. **I**_**I**" I can feel the dark scowl he's giving me prickle on the back of my neck. "**_I_I**_ I know something is wrong. Tell me. **I**_**I**"

I suck at my teeth as my mouth pulls down into a distasteful frown. Tala's tone… it holds just the vaguest implications of authority. He is commanding, not asking, me to forfeit my knowledge. My eyes narrow. I abhor orders.

"Tala." I turn, pinning his eyes with my own to make sure he is listening closely to my words. "Let me make this very clear for you. You are not my brother. You are not my friend. Do not command me."

Tala recoils, looking like he has just been slapped. Hurt reflects in his wide eyes and in that moment he looks terribly vulnerable.

I cannot explain the tightness in my chest as I watch the betrayed expression visibly contort the lines on his face.

"You…" Finally, he has relented, Tala's words have switched to English—though it is a hollow victory. "How can you say that so coldly? Don't you remember… ?" His voice trails off at the end and I cannot help but wonder what he was about to say.

"Remember what?" I ask with a carefully neutral expression.

"Your past! Our past! Those years we spent at the Abbey together; you were my best friend Kai! Don't you dare joke about forgetting something that important!" Tala's voice is desperate but rises with an aggressive edge at the end.

I frown. And he looks at me, as though trying to divine some answer from my expression.

"C'mon Kai… Naar!... I can understand you wanting to hide yourself in front of everyone else, but we know each other better than anyone! You can let down that mask in front of me!"

Mask? I tilt my head. What is Tala talking about?

"You've been acting weird… even when you returned to the Abbey last year. I was so mad, _so mad_ at you… that I avoided you completely. But you… you never even acknowledged my presence! You acted like you didn't even know who I was! Why? What is _wrong_ with you? Did you forget about me, about the Abbey? Or are you really that cruel?" Tala's voice lowers with his last words, twisting with accusation.

Something in me balks at the thought of Tala considering me to be cruel. I feel an urge to blurt out the truth… to just tell Tala that I had no memory of the time before I was nine. That I didn't remember the Abbey, that I didn't remember him.

But to admit my faults is to expose my vulnerability. I might as well cut myself off at my knees.

"I do not know what you are talking about." I say lowly, not meeting his eyes.

Tala drops his head to the side, bending and trying to catch my gaze. "You're lying." He says confidently. I stiffen. "You know something… but you don't want to tell me… Kai… I've heard these rumours around the Abbey. They say that you lost your memories in the explosion after Black Dranzer… is that… is it true?"

I draw in a slow breath of air. And hold it.

Tala sighs and shakes his head. "But that can't be true… It can't, because I saw you after that, you were fine. You were fine until they took us down to the labs and…—" Tala breaks off and gasps. My eyes shoot up to look at him suspiciously. What is he talking about? "My god…" Tala breathes. "It's true. They took your memories! That lying, thieving bastard Boris! I'm gonna—!" Tala cuts himself off again and turns his head violently to the side, clenching one fist tightly.

"What are you babbling about?" I ask, growing impatient with his half-sentences.

"Nothing, nothing, it's not important" Tala looks back at me. "But… you must have some memories at least, right? You couldn't have lost them all… Like… Like… Remember the first time we met? We were in one of those lower level training areas and you saved me from being rejected by the Abbey. Don't you remember Kai? You lost the match for me and Boris got so angry with you… that was the first time I called you 'Red'…" He looks at me, eyes flickering back and forth across my face, searching for some recognition.

But my mind is frozen in shock. Tala's words… they resemble so closely the hallucination I had just recently. How would Tala know about that…?

"Or… or how about the time when Wolborg got experimented on… back when he was still Lupin. They gave him an element and you said I should give him a different name… Remember Kai? Wolborg got his name thanks to you!"

"No… stop this." I turn away, my mind is reeling, I can't accept this… I _won't_ accept this. These hallucinations… all this time… have they been _real?_ I raise a hand to rest over my mouth, and am loathed to find myself _trembling_. Through sheer force of will I stop the tremors in my hand, then place the side of my index finger under my nose.

"No, I won't stop! You have to believe me, you have to trust me, I'm not lying to you… Look, look…" Out of the corner of my eye I see Tala fiddling with his gloves. He pulls up the culls of his sleeves, undoing the silver buttons on one glove, then slips it off his hand. "See, here, look at this tattoo, and tell me you don't have one just like it on your left wrist!" And there, on his inner wrist is the symbol of a five point star, formed out of dark, Prussian blue teardrops. Involuntarily, my right hand goes to cover up my tattoo, the twin image of his, on my left wrist.

"They put these on our dominant hand. Don't you remember? Our initiation ceremony, what we had to _do _to get these! That stupid mafia tradition!" Tala recklessly keeps talking, some wild passion alight in his eyes. "I know it's on your left wrist because before the accident you were left handed. Then, after the Abbey collapsed you got hurt and couldn't use your left hand anymore—"

"Enough…**_Enough_**." It's as close to a shout as I would ever get without completely loosing my composure, and thankfully it seems enough to stop Tala and his imprudent accusations.

_But it's all true, isn't it?_

There is no way Tala could have known about the visions I have been having… I told no one, described them to no one… He could not have known… Which meant… If he knew of these events, then they must have happened… and if _these _visions were real… then the others…

_Boris, bearing down on me, a vile grin on his sunken features._

I shake my head, refusing to believe. Putting all reason away, I gather all my thoughts up and throw them into a dark corner of my mind. There they will remain, seething quietly, until I am alone and in better condition to face them properly.

My shoulders relax and I let out a breath I had not realized I was holding.

"That is enough, Tala." I say evenly. But even as I focus my eyes on Tala's face, my right hand is still tracing the patterns of the teardrops on my left wrist. Something he mentioned—about the meaning of the tattoo, and the mafia—perked my interest. Later, I will have to research the topic in greater detail.

"No, Kai… It will never be enough." Tala shakes his head. "It will never be enough; not until I get my friend back. What happened to the old you, Naar?"

I hesitate, wondering if there is really an answer I can give to such a rhetorical question, when Tala suddenly curses loudly.

"What?" I ask, then follow his gaze to the ground behind me. A strip of yellow light is emanating from under the washroom door, contrasting sharply against the sterile white florescent light bulbs in the washroom.

"Damn! They turned on the lights!" Tala hisses. I frown, not understanding what he is talking about. "Boris will find me out if I stay here too long." He mutters then quickly looks up at me. "Kai, get out of here, I'll follow right after."

I pause, but looking at Tala I understand this is not the time for questions. So I nod silently and head to the door.

"Kai…?" Tala's voice stops me just as I press a palm to the door.

"Hn." I force the low noise from my nose.

"Boris and Voltaire are planning something…" I can almost see him fiddling with the edge of his glove, as he always does when he is worried.

"I know."

"… Stay safe." Tala says at length. "And… if you ever resolve things with the Director, know that you'll always have a place at the Abbey with the Demolition Boys."

I resist the urge to snap back a cutting reply. Tala does not deserve to have his naïve world shattered in such a callous way. But his ironic comment is wrong, so wrong, on so many levels, that I don't even know what to say to him. That Tala could still trust in the merits of Biovolt, after everything they've done? One minute he is cursing Boris, the next he is lauding him; the hypocrisy is... I have no words for him, only a lingering regret.

"I… understand." I answer after a break.

It is a lie.

With a purposeful shove, I open the door and walk out.

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Someone had found the light switch.

With light restored to the room, it didn't take long for everyone to realize the main cause of the disturbance. A small red-headed boy with ripped jeans and a sloppy t-shirt was bounding and jumping around the room. Not unlike a wild monkey, he raced from one person to the other, all the while screaming his head off about beating Tyson in a Beybattle.

Sparing a few moments for open-mouthed shock, the adults in the room quickly gathered themselves and attempted to catch the child. But when the boy danced easy out of Judy's clumsy tackle—causing her to topple sideways onto Mrs. Foster, who grabbed onto Mr. Tate, who overbalanced and led to all three of them falling into an undignified heap—it soon became an all out war between both adults and teens alike and the little boy. They leaped over couches and upturned chairs in their pursuit of the child but at every turn he wriggled out of their grasp: either jumping right over them or brandishing table lamps and cutlery to ward them off.

The only ones not participating in this embarrassing display were the Russian part of the group. Spencer, Bryan and Ian stayed near their favoured couch, watching the chaos unfold with vaguely disturbed looks, though Spencer noticed that Bryan seemed to gain a certain gleam in his eyes when the red-headed boy grabbed onto Rei's long hair and yanked it mercilessly.

In another, quieter corner of the room, Voltaire gestured for Boris' attention.

"I grow tired of this childishness." Voltaire intoned. "Send your dogs after the little rat."

Boris lowered his head obediently and caught the eye of one guard. Nodding, Boris made a jerking motion with two of his fingers toward the wayward child and the guard immediately responded.

Specifically trained in the art of capture and retrieval of children of all ages, it was the work of mere minutes for the guard to overtake and pin the red-head's hands behind his back. Yelling and kicking, the boy struggled wildly, tossing his head and repeatedly stabbing the heel of his foot into the guard's shins. Unmoved, the guard merely grunted before bodily lifting the child off the ground and stuffing him non-too-gently on a wrought iron hook-like fixture on the wall. Though the boy thrashed, swinging both arms and legs violently back and forth, he remained stuck, hanging by the back of his shirt, on the wall.

"Whew!" Enrique whistled, sitting on a sofa nearby. "They are-a thugs, but they sure come in handy, eh, Bobby?"

Robert scoffed.

"Good." Voltaire, standing out of hearing range, spoke to Boris. "It seems that at least _some _of your subordinates remain under your control."

"I—" Boris fumbled. "Excuse me, my Lord?" Following Voltaire's gaze, Boris' eyes landed on his team and that was when he noticed the very pointed absence of his Team Captain.

"Over there." Voltaire said calmly, in answer to Boris' unasked question.

Boris looked over to the washrooms just in time to see Tala trying to sneak out unnoticed.

"You will want to speak with him." Voltaire turned away. "Make sure he did not upset my Grandson."

Only once Voltaire was a safe distance away did Boris let a dark scowl stretch across his face. "Insufferable old man." He grumbled under his breath. Nonetheless, Boris forced his anger away from Voltaire Hiwatari and instead focused it on another, more accessible target. Narrowing his eyes, Boris' features twisted into a dangerous look as he bore down on the unsuspecting Tala.

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"Hey, hey, hey, hey!" Tyson was poking the red-headed boy in the head. The boy was resolutely ignoring him. Having calmed from his previous tantrum, the child had moved on to a stubborn sulk, crossing his arms and turning his head away, trying to maintain as much dignity as he could while hanging on the wall like an ornament. "Hey," Tyson was relentless; his finger raised to poke the boy in the forehead again. "Hey, hey—"

"WOULD YOU STOP THAT!?" Finally unable to handle it anymore, the boy screamed his words at Tyson, turning to display the red, irritated spot on his forehead where Tyson had been repeatedly prodding him.

"Hey, don't get mad!" Tyson shrugged with an easy grin. "I just wanted to ask what your name is."

The boy gaped.

"Wow, Tyson, you sure know how to torture a guy into talking…" Michael leaned back in his seat, putting his hands behind his head and watching the events with a lazy eye.

"He's had lots of practice during all those times the Chief tried to pull the silent treatment on him." Max answered, standing behind the American. Michael smirked up at Max and Kenny flushed in embarrassment, rubbing his forehead as though trying to rid himself of the phantom pain.

"Well… at least I didn't get all upset over it…" Kenny muttered, shifting Dizzy in his lap.

"Hmm?" Michael lowered his head to regard the small boy and his long auburn hair fell to cover one eye. "What do you mean?"

"Oh he's talking about Kai! Aren't you Chief?" Dizzy piped up.

Kenny nodded. Then, remembering Dizzy couldn't see him, added a verbal 'yeah'.

"It was back when we just met each other," Max took up the story, watching Michael as he spoke. "See, Kai…uh…hehe… Kai likes his privacy." Max grinned sheepishly and scratched at the hair near his temple.

"Now _zat_ is an understatement." Oliver, hearing the conversation, had moved closer to join them. "_Zee _first time I spoke to _zee _guy 'e nearly bit my 'ead off… and I was complimenting 'im!" Oliver chuckled.

Max laughed. "Yes, well, to be fair you were kinda acting like a jerk." Max's causal tone softened his words and Oliver just shrugged. "Anyway, so we were having our first Team meeting and Tyson got into his head that we should all introduce ourselves and say something embarrassing about ourselves." Here Max blushed, but refused to elaborate on the topic. "Kai was standing away from all of us, leaning against a tree. He had his eyes closed so Tyson thought he was asleep…"

There rose a low groan from Max's audience as they realized Tyson was about to do something stupid.

"So Tyson, being Tyson, walked right up to him and started poking him. Kai's pretty tall, and Tyson didn't really dare to reach up and poke him in the head so he just kept poking him in the arm…"

"What happened?" Michael was now watching Max intently, the heavy feeling of something like dread in his stomach.

"Well, on the fourth or fifth poke, Kai's eyes just suddenly opened and WHAM!" Max threw his hand out in a sharp gesture, startling Oliver and Michael. "He grabbed Tyson by the front of his jacket and lifted him right up to his eyes."

"Tyson was practically hanging off the ground." Dizzy added helpfully.

"And then he _glared _at Tyson and said, in a very low voice," Here Max lowered his head and tried to mimic Kai's deep baritone " 'Tyson, if you poke me one more time I swear I'll vivi—vovi—vici— ' Oh… what was it he said?" Completely breaking the intensity of the moment, Max laughed and scratched his head, trying to remember the word Kai had used.

"Vivisect! He said he'd vivisect Tyson!" Dizzy crowed.

Max blushed. "Yeah, that's it… vivisect, whatever that means…" He was completely oblivious to Oliver and Michael's pale faces.

"Don't feel bad, Max," Kenny consoled. "I don't think Tyson knew what it meant either. I think only me and Rei got it… Rei was skirting around Kai for days after that remember?"

"Oh yeah!" Max laughed. "Back them Rei didn't really trust Kai; it took him a while to warm up to him."

"I wonder why!" Michael said sarcastically, unnerved by the story. "The guy's a maniac. If that's how he treats his team mates remind me never to get on his bad side!"

"Oh, well, Kai's not that bad, really," Max defended. "He's a bit scary, but he's pretty patient also. And it takes a lot to _really _make him mad."

"Yeah, and when that happens be ready to run, otherwise all we'll have left to remember you by is a smoking three foot crater." Though the words were sarcastic, Dizzy's tone was serious enough to bring the worried looks back to Oliver and Michael's faces.

"Yeah! And in it we'll have to put Tyson's gravestone: 'Here lies Tyson: he slept in one too many times, may he now rest in peace eternally free of evil death glares.' " Max laughed, Kenny and Dizzy joining him.

Oliver and Michael looked at one another.

"_Zey _are all insane, aren't _zey_?" Oliver asked.

"I hear ya." Michael muttered back.

Tyson and the red-headed boy continued to speak, oblivious to the interaction going on around them.

"The name's Daichi!" The red-head raised his head and puffed out his chest proudly, though from his position in the air the motion seemed more like overcompensation. "Daichi Sumeragi! And I'm here to find a guy named Tyson Granger and beat him with my Stratadragoon!"

"Me?" Tyson pointed to himself innocently. "Why me?"

"YOU'RE Tyson?!" Daichi cried incredulously staring at Tyson as though he had five heads. "_You're _the current World Champion?"

"Yup!" Tyson drew himself up proudly. "That's me: Tyson Granger, World Champ!"

Daichi stilled, sending Tyson a long look before seeming to come to a conclusion; his eyelids fell half way. "You've gotta be kidding. No way is an idiot like you the best Beyblader in the world."

From behind Tyson there came a few chuckles. "Kid's gotta sense o' humour in 'im." Johnny said wryly from where he was seated. "I'z been askin' meself that same question ev'ry day too."

Mariah, also sitting nearby, rolled her head over the back of the chair to look at Johnny. "You're not still upset that you lost to his team a year ago, are you Johnny? You should learn to let these things go."

"Ah, shaddup." Johnny scowled at the pink-haired girl.

Mariah's eyes flashed and for a moment she looked like she was going to make an angry retort, but then Rei came up behind her and put a calming hand on her shoulder.

"Don't take him too seriously, Mariah," He said soothingly. "He's like that to everyone."

Mariah visibly relaxed under Rei's hand and nodded her head. "Fine." She said.

Seeing Mariah so easily subdued, a smirk grew on Johnny's face and he opened his mouth to make a comment but was interrupted by Enrique raising his hand. Johnny cocked an eyebrow at the blond Italian.

"Do not-a mock the poor kids, Johnny!" Enrique said magnanimously. "Can you not-a see they are in love?"

Sniggers broke out all around at this comment and Rei and Mariah turned equal shades of vibrant red.

"W-we're not…" Rei stuttered.

"It's not like that!" Mariah raised both her hands.

"I had wonder when you admit this." Lee said stiltingly in his choppy English.

Enrique's eyes widened. "Do not-a tell me! Rei! This is your first love is it not?" Rei, if possible, blushed harder. "Then you must let-a Enrique take you under his wing!" Enrique made a wide beckoning motion with one arm, though Rei stayed rooted where he was. Enrique threw back his blond hair with a toss of his head. "Come, come! Do not-a be afraid! Enrique will-a tell you aaaall about the wonderful adventures of love! He will-a tell you how to woo the ladies with your charm! Mesmerize them with your talent! In no time you will-a have women of all sorts swooning at your feet—!" And Enrique was promptly smacked over the back of his head by Emily.

"Don't you dare start spouting your nonsense around here!" Emily scolded. "One Casanova is more than enough. You don't need to go around breeding any more, thank you very much!"

"Oh so you admit, that I am a Master of love?" Enrique winked.

Emily smacked him again, harder.

"Wow, sheesh, woman, do you hafta be so violent?" Johnny cringed in sympathy, but when Emily raised her threatening gaze to him he wisely closed his mouth.

"Ooww… Ah what pain those in love must suffer!" Enrique wailed, rubbing his head. "But the hunnies are-a worth it, _ci_, Rei?" And he smirked up at Rei, who denied it profusely under Mariah's narrowed eyes. Emily looked like she was going to smack Enrique again. The Italian, seeing the dangerous gleam in her eyes, edged away from her warily.

Hilary wondered how on Earth these people had managed to survive this long without killing each other.

Meanwhile, Tyson and Daichi were having their own heated discussion.

"Hey, I am SO worthy of being Champ! I could beat a puny shrimp like you any day!" Tyson said aggressively, putting his face close to Daichi's.

"Oh yeah? Then why dontcha PROVE it, big shot? And I am NOT a shrimp!" Daichi yelled back and Tyson had to back away to avoid being sprayed with spittle.

"I don't hafta prove ANYTHING to a little shrimp like you! I could beat you in my sleep!" Tyson grinned cockily.

"Could not! You're too stupid!" Daichi shot back.

"Well, you're puny! What are you, ten? Twelve? Where're you're parents, kid, shouldn't you be running back to your Mommy?" Tyson grinned, thinking he'd won the argument.

But the reaction he got was unexpected. Daichi's eyes seemed to alight with renewed vigour and his struggles against the wall hook gained strength.

"Give it up, kid, you'll never get down from there." Tyson crossed his arms and watched Daichi, unconcerned.

"Wanna bet?" Suddenly Daichi planted both his feet against the wall and, with a mighty shove, pushed himself away from the wall. With a loud ripping sound, Daichi broke free of the hook and shot forward; right at Tyson.

Tyson only had time to uncross his arms and widen his eyes before a blurred ball of scrappy clothes and bright red hair collided with him and threw him right off his feet.

"Oof!"

"Hey! Gerroff me, kid!"

Alex Tate, having picked himself up off the ground after his embarrassing fall, moved away from Judy and Mrs. Foster. He brushed off his pants and then caught the twinkling eyes of Mr. Granger.

"What…?" Alex grew nervous at that look and followed Ryu Granger's eyes to the tangle of flailing limbs that was Tyson and Daichi rolling around on the ground. "Oh no!" Alex backed away in horror, raising his hands. "No way am I going near that kid again, he's a monster I tell you! No one that short should be able to jump so high! He leaped clean over me: kicked me in the head! Didn't you see?!"

A soft but firm hand was placed on Alex's shoulder and he was unceremoniously pushed backward. Alex stopped his rambling and looked in surprise at who had shoved him back.

"Stay out of this, Alex." Judy Tate passed him, rolling up her sleeves. "Let a master handle it." And she threw him a grin—one he was only too familiar with—and in spite of the fact that he was no longer her husband, he still felt a shiver run between his shoulder blades at that look.

"This will only take a second." And she moved in.

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Tala knew he was in major trouble.

The second he saw the lights had come back on outside the washroom he knew it would only be a matter of time before Boris noticed he was missing.

He let Kai leave the room first—partially because there was no way he was going to try and squeeze past his old friend while he was in _that _mood; and partially because that long forgotten overprotectiveness he'd once harboured toward the younger boy seemed to still have some last dregs of its feelers stuck into him.

By having him leave the room first, Tala could be sure that Kai would be less likely to get caught up in whatever Boris was going to do to deal with his disobedience.

Silently, Tala watched Kai's back as the sterile blue door swung shut behind him, and he wondered; how easily 'Kai' had replaced the young, wide-eyed optimistic child he'd once protected so fiercely in his mind.

Tala had imagined… had hoped… that once he broke past those barriers around 'Kai' that he'd once again become that slightly quirky, passionate boy he'd known in his childhood. In his mind he'd referred to his old friend not as 'Kai' but as 'Naar', because to him they had been two separate people.

Naar was the naïve little kid who'd once stuck out his neck and saved a stranger just 'because'. Naar was shy, smart and a complete goodie-goodie. Tala had been drawn to the quiet, lonely kid almost immediately and had great fun in getting him to open up and trust him. Because he'd always known Naar had the potential in him to care, it was just buried beneath layers and layers of distrust and hurt… In a way Naar had reminded Tala of himself.

But Kai… Kai was cold. Kai was arrogant and malicious. Kai was a wall, created out of ice and diamond, completely impenetrable. Tala could not reach out to such an icy figure, could not ever hope to move past those walls because there simply was no weakness in them; there was no weakness because they weren't walls… not really. They were a manifestation of everything Tala had ever feared: his old friend's betrayal, nonchalance and stoic rejection of Tala's fragile friendship. It was everything Tala had feared had happened to his friend and more: Kai didn't need him, didn't want him and… even worse, had forgotten him, even after Tala had hung desperately onto his hope for so long.

But now… Now he didn't know what to think.

He realized that Naar was gone. And he wasn't coming back. The friendship he'd once held so dear was gone, ripped away, leaving an empty gaping hole in his heart. But maybe that was how all things in life were. Everything ended, everything changed… and besides, could Tala honestly say he was the same boy he'd been all those years ago?

No, the time for childish things had passed. 'Naar' and 'Thalj' were gone, washed away to be remembered only as mere echoes in the most desolate hallways of the Abbey.

Tala had grown, and so had Kai. Perhaps it was finally time to put the past behind him and begin anew.

Kai and Naar had for so long existed as separate entities in Tala's mind. But this was not the right way to think. Kai was Naar… and Tala could see that now. There were shadows of déjà vu, in the way Kai moved, or how his eyes would sometimes fill with that profound emotion Tala had once known well. He was different, so very different, but he was also the same. And now, Tala knew the most important thing: it had not been out of scorn of their friendship that Naar had left the Abbey all those years ago.

He'd been stolen away. Stolen; by Voltaire.

Tala felt a rush of hatred for the old man who had destroyed one of the few people Tala cared about, but he pushed it aside. No, Kai was not destroyed… And his porcelain mask was not perfect, Tala had seen it cracking with his own eyes.

Belief was the strongest of all human virtues. Promises could be shattered, lives could be indelibly changed in a split second's notice… But Tala would not let his belief waver. Kai was his friend. His best friend.

He just didn't know it yet.

And with that resolution clear in his mind, Tala took a deep breath and put his fate in the hands of the Almighty.

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It was almost pitifully predictable—Tala exited the room and had taken a mere two steps across the polished wooden floor of the lounge room when Boris came barreling out of nowhere like an enraged bull and seized his arm roughly.

"And just where do you think you're going?" Boris hissed dangerously in Tala's ear. His voice was lowered, but as an extra precaution he spoke in Russian. Tala just gazed up at the Director with a mild expression.

"I was returning to my team." He said evenly, answering likewise in Russian, and spared a glance to Spencer, Bryan and Ian. They were watching the exchange helplessly, worry shinning clear in their eyes. They were too far away to hear what Boris was saying and tied also by the rules of obedience which prevented them from helping. Tala, realizing they were probably going to try and help anyway, made a quick but firm 'No' gesture with two fingers—holding the hand low enough so that Boris couldn't see, and sharply jerking his raised fingers side to side twice. Spencer leaned back, Bryan scowled and Ian just stared—they would listen to him for now, and Tala was glad.

"Oh no you don't, not before you do a little explaining." Boris said between clenched teeth. Looking up and around quickly, Boris saw that everyone else in the room was occupied with the wayward rat—Daichi. Using the cover to his advantage, Boris roughly yanked Tala around by the arm then practically threw him at the washroom door.

Stumbling, Tala took the hint and entered the room without a fuss. Boris followed quickly on his heels.

The door swung shut behind them and in a moment Boris had whirled on Tala, eyes flashing with rage. "You better have a damn good reason for disobeying my orders, boy." He didn't need to add a threat, the tone of his voice was threatening enough.

Being in a room full of people, and having to stay strong in front of his team had given Tala confidence. But being trapped in this room, alone and cornered by Boris, seemed to sap Tala of all his bravado.

"I—I—I…" Tala fumbled, in his moment of panic all his thoughts had scattered and all he could do was stare wide eyed into Boris' menacing features. "I—had… to use the washroom…" Tala only barely manage to keep his voice from lifting questioningly at the end, but he couldn't quite keep the waver out as he trailed off at the end. The last time he'd seen Boris this furious had been when his team had lost the World Championships last year… and that was not something Tala wanted to remember.

"_Lies_, boy!" Boris spat and Tala stiffened. "I will ask you again and don't you _dare _lie to me this time; or have you forgotten the teachings?"

Tala paled. And like a cruel reminder, the writings came back to him as a cold, impersonal echo in his mind. Pounded into his head after years and years of study the words flowed through his memory as easily as his own name.

_'…And so God deemed the treachery and deceit of man greatest of all sins; for treachery mothered thievery and thievery has given generously unto the betrayer. To the wicked betrayer, punishment will not wait until the afterlife, but is paid in full by excommunication from the Eyes of God.' _

Excommunication from the 'Eyes of God'… in the teachings this title symbolized the Abbey and 'excommunication' meant permanent exile. Tala sucked in a breath of air, it was the worst of all threats: to be forced to leave the Abbey… It would ruin his life, everything he'd worked so hard for… gone in a split second bad decision.

And Boris would do it. Of that Tala had no doubt. Boris didn't care about him—didn't care for any of the students of the Abbey, be they elite or scum.

It wasn't his talent that kept Tala in the Abbey.

It was trust. The trust Boris had in him. Once that trust was gone, so was Tala. He'd be a fool to think Boris would kept him around for sentimental reasons beyond basic usefulness, or his so called 'ability'. No, Tala was entirely replaceable. There were hundreds upon hundreds of eager, young boys willing to do anything to fill his position at the Abbey. And Tala didn't doubt that at least one of them had the potential to replace him.

Tala had already lost favour, having failed Boris once already.

Tala licked his lips and stared at Boris as he struggled with himself.

_'What harm will it do… really… to tell the truth?' _

And Tala relented. "I wanted to see Kai… I wanted to speak with him…" He looked down, feeling ashamed and not knowing why.

Boris sneered, Tala could feel it searing into his neck. "And what did you discover about _dear _57?"

Tala cringed inwardly at the mention of that number… how desperately his friend had strove to overcome that humiliating degradation. But that was in the past, it would do no good to get indignant about things that no longer had significance. "He… Director, I don't think he remembers anything from his past. He doesn't remember anything from before he left the Abbey, not his training, not the explosion, not even the exper—"

"Enough Tala, I understand." Boris interrupted. "What did you tell him?"

Tala wet his lips again; here was where it got tricky. "I…was upset, I tried to get him to remember… and for a moment it looked like he was, but then… well, I'm not sure…" Tala shrugged, caught himself, and let his arms hang.

Boris waited, as though he knew Tala had more to say.

"I decided to let it go and instead, I—"

"What did you try to get him to remember?"

"What?" Tala, thrown off by the unexpected question, almost looked up at Boris but stopped himself at the last moment.

"You heard me." There was something strange, intense, in Boris' voice, something Tala couldn't quite describe, but it made the muscles in his back tremble with disquiet.

"Uh…" Tala had a bad feeling that what he was going to say next would get him into a lot of trouble. "I tried… to get him to remember the initiation…" Tala's left hand drifted to his right wrist, stroking the tattoo hidden under his white glove with his thumb. "He got this glazed look and told me to stop. He looked… upset." Tala sighed.

"Tell me what happened after." Boris changed the topic swiftly and Tala shot him a look. He was surprised. Boris seemed almost… happy?

"Well… I basically told him he'd always be welcome at the Abbey, and… that was all, I saw the lights come on and he left the room soon after that." Tala said quickly, wanting to get the explanation over with.

"I see… and did you have any authority to tell him such a thing?" Boris suddenly asked, slyly.

Tala froze, wondering what Boris was talking about _'Oh… that comment about the Abbey'._ "I… no. I did not. I… apologize for my indiscretion."

"Hm…" Boris seemed to be pondering over whether to accept Tala's apology, the silence made Tala sweat. "Very well, I will overlook it this one time. But in return you will do something for me, Tala."

"…Yes…?" Tala asked warily, not having the luxury to refuse.

"What you told me right now—all of it—you will not repeat to anyone else, do you understand?"

It was a strange request and it made Tala blink. "Huh?"

"You will not repeat the conversation we just had to anyone. Not your friends, not those idiotic Bladebreakers, not even Lord Voltaire." Boris' tone was dark, almost as dark as the look in his eyes.

Tala looked up, startled. "—What?"

"Not even Voltaire!" Boris snatched up Tala's arm in a crushing grip and gave him a harsh shake. "Do you understand me?"

"I—yes!" Tala clenched his teeth together, squeezing his eyes closed. "I understand!"

"Good." Boris abruptly let go of Tala, throwing him back a couple of steps. "And believe me boy, if you disobey me this time you will _wish _you'd been thrown out of the Abbey."

The grin that curled Boris' mouth did nothing to alleviate Tala's alarm.

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**_End Chapter Twenty-Five_**

**_…To Be Continued _**

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Waaa… Ok (cracks fingers) that should make up for the shortness of the last chapter! (Grins) Unfortunately, school has started, so I now find myself facing an ominous, growing mountain of work. With longer chapters come longer spaces between updates. I'll try to get them out once a month, but I can't promise any more than that. Ta!

**WolfRain:** Hey! Hee hee, I didn't mean to make the last chapter's cliffhanger so evil, really! I just kinda… lost my motivation for a little while so I took a small break in writing; I figured I should at least post as much as I'd written, even if it wasn't much XD This chapter was longer though and didn't—really—end on a cliffhanger (I think XP). So I hope you liked. Oh and this is rather belated, but I hope you had an awesome trip! Where'd you go?

**smile: **Hiya! Yay! A new reviewer! Thanks for the nice review and I hope you read and enjoyed all the chapters up to now, tell me what you think once you finish!

**Sciura:** Yeah, Boris is a little brutal… I pondered for awhile about making him less… violent, but I guess I've always seen Boris as a raging psychopath so I couldn't help it XD Plus, I wanted to try the challenge of writing a creepy, somewhat insane character (guilty! XP). About the Huo's… yeah I realize it's been awhile since I've mentioned them (sheepish grin). Actually, they have their own personal part to play in the story, so I wanted to 'remind' the readers about them, so that when they do come up again everyone won't be thinking 'Huh? Who? Who are these random people inserted into the fic?' XD I'm not sure if that attempt worked too well o.O' So! Yes, it's been twenty-five chapters and we're STILL in the reunion! Insane huh? I knew this story would be long, but I didn't quite anticipate this! XD I will say though that the plot is definitely moving… just very slowly and unobviously XD I hope it continues to be interesting though!

**NorthWind: **Hi , and thanks so much for reviewing! :D Your English was just fine, I understood it perfectly; actually I think it's pretty impressive that you managed to read this entire story so far… when English isn't even your first language! I tried to do that with a French story and I had a really hard time with it XDD. So really? One of the best fics you've read? Aww, thanks! (Blushes) I really hope you liked this chapter too!

**Evanescente:** Heya! Yay! Thank you so much for your awesome review! You're way too nice ;p At any rate, I'm so happy you're enjoying my story so far and I hope you liked this chapter too! Oh and to answer your comment about the 'Adio!' I put at the end of my chapters… actually, it's 'good-bye' in Romanian, not Spanish ;P I've got that question a few times… actually, it's more for sentimental effect (I've been doing it for so long) than anything else, 'cause I believe 'Adio' is a more permanent way of saying 'Good-bye' instead of 'See you later' … But I continued doing it just for fun and as an inside joke with myself (if that makes any sense) XD. Anyway, please tell me what you thought of the chapter, I'd love to read your comments!

**banan: **_Le gasp! _An in-chapter response? What has the world come to? Well, I hope you notice I responded to you here and didn't think I abandoned your review! XD I'm afraid though, that this will have to be a bit of a short response; I got a little swamped with work and I wanted to reply to you before I posted the chapter… but that didn't happen, so here it is! First of all, I hope you did well on your physics and math tests! I know how awfully evil those courses are so I'm hoping for the best for you! Now! Yay, you like the Huo's! (Does a dance) I didn't want them to come off as annoying Mary-Sue wannabe's so I worked on their characters a lot… made me kinda attached (aww… hugs little Mikhail and Sonya XD). I can't answer any of your speculations on 'Eli H—' 'Cause that would totally ruin the story, so you'll have to wait… and suffer in suspense! (Evil laughter) On another note, you were very quick to notice the tension between Boris and Voltaire (no one else's mentioned it yet!) so I'm wondering now what you think about them after this chapter… Hmmm… definitely something suspicious going on! Tala got found out by Boris… sad but inevitable, but it did give us some good insights, so it's a good trade off, right? (ducks frying pan thrown at head) Ok, maybe not XDD… Oh and Daichi's here to stay, sorry! (runs away before you can pursue the chase) XP

**Thankies to everyone who reviewed, believe me, this chapter would have taken a LOT longer to come out if not for each and every one of you guys! Thanks: terracannon876, Yuliya, lady KCassandra, Flaming Ice94, Canyx **(I think I responded to your review… but I'm having a mental relapse, if I didn't then I'm sorry and I hope you enjoyed the Tala-Kainess in this chapter!)**, fawks136, wolf's lament, StarShinobi, grimnessreaper, Nameless Little Girl, Miako6, Raykou-Kun, WolfRain, Irish Potatoes, d1bontemp, The Demon Puppeteer, BloodRedViolet, smile, Dreading **(Takes iron pole and whacks you back… just 'cause I can XD)**, bladz-liska, Secret Thought, Sciura, Kai's Suzaku, NorthWind, Evanescente, blitzkrieg soldier87banan**** and ****TheFallenangel927! Oh, and also, thanks to AngeLhearteD **(your words of encouragement really helped me sit down and write this chapter :D)**!**

**Adio!**


	29. Stranger

**Chapter 26**

Uhgh… (throws thesaurus into the corner) I'm sick of looking up synonyms for 'surprised', 'stunned' and 'shocked' only to find 'shocked', 'stunned' and 'surprised' X_X

**Disclaimer:** Beyblade and all related characters are property of Takao Aoki.

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**KEY: **_**I**_**I** …_(italics)… __**I**_**I — **denotes a change in language

**------**_**I**_**I** …_**(bold)…**_ _**I**_**I — **denotes a second change in language

**----- ¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤ — **denotes a change in point of view

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**HI ALL! Everyone, please stop by and check out this pencil art!**

**This drawing **is so incredibly cute!!** Canyx** never fails to amaze me with her drawing of animals and this picture of Kai and Dranzer really conveys their bond: a bond that needs no words. Check it out! (without the spaces): http: / / canyx. deviantart. com/art/My-Guardian-98964791 If that doesn't work, go to my profile page and click on the link to my Deviantart page. You'll find the picture under my favourites.

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Enjoy!

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

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"_There is a great difference between worry and concern. A worried person sees a problem, and a concerned person solves a problem."_

—Harold Stephens

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**Chapter 26:** _**Stranger**_

After having been berated and scolded into submission by a ruthless Judy, Daichi was given a brief opportunity to explain himself. It was then that he revealed, to a greatly shocked audience, that he had traveled to Russia all the way from Japan. Extensive questioning followed, but no one was able to get more than vague answers out of the boy. Queries about how he'd gotten to Russia were met with mumbled half-answers and any mention of parents or guardians made Daichi clam up and glare darkly at everyone around him.

"Why the heck anyone'd fly all this to Beyblade '_im _is beyond me." Johnny, sprawled sideways over an expensive looking armchair, gestured lazily in Tyson's direction with a toothpick.

"He's the world champ!" Daichi cried, inadvertently defending Tyson. "'Course I wanna fight him! And I'm gonna crush him too!"

"Oie!" Tyson was standing near the buffet table and he took the cracker he was munching on out of his mouth as he spoke. "You couldn't lay a _finger _on me, runt." He made a wide, sweeping gesture with his hand, spraying crumbs across the lacy doilies and white tablecloth.

Daichi snorted, "I could run circles around you; with how much you eat I'm surprised you're not—"

"Boys! Boys! Now, there's no need for us to fight!" Mr. Dickenson quickly stepped in the middle, breaking the eye contact between the boys and rendering the evil glares they were sending each other useless. "Now, Daichi, why don't you go along with…" Mr. Dickenson looked imploringly at the adults in the room.

Mr. Tate and Mr. Granger immediately looked to opposite ends of the rooms and whistled nonchalantly.

"Men." Judy huffed patronizingly. She exchanged looks with Mrs. Foster and the latter woman nodded.

"I'll take him." She said to Mr. Dickenson, who smiled beamed approvingly.

"Very good! Daichi, why don't you go along with Mrs. Foster here to the hotel where we're all staying? Then, we can take you back to Japan—"

"NO!" Daichi stamped his foot, though the sound was muffled by the plush carpeting. "I'm NOT going until I beat Tyson!"

"Well, you can give him one thing," Mariah rolled her eyes at the display. "Little twerp certainly is persistent."

Daichi's ears turned a blotchy red and he opened his mouth, looking ready to explode. But when Judy narrowed her eyes sternly and pursed her lips, the beginning of another long lecture on the tip of her tongue, the boy immediately froze. Daichi's eyes widened in fear and his mouth snapped shut.

And that was the end of the argument.

As Daichi left with Mrs. Foster—pausing only once to yell to Tyson that 'It wasn't over' and 'He was toast the next time they met'—Max and his father exchanged slightly amused, if not somewhat alarmed, looks over the silent power Judy wielded. Said woman was too busy nodding to herself in self-satisfaction to notice the looks her husband and son were sending her.

In the wake of Daichi's departure, the gossip surrounding him flourished.

"Dude, I can't believe he came all the way here from Japan!" Steve from the All-Stars exclaimed as he, his team mate Eddy and Tyson stood in a circle talking to each other.

"Yeah, I know!" Tyson grinned hugely. By far the shortest of the three boys, he had to crane his neck to look at their faces. "I have the coolest fans don't I?!"

"But, like, how did he _get _here, man?" Eddy scratched his head.

"I dunno, but he did it all so he could Beybattle me. It's so awesome!" Tyson was so giddy he was almost bouncing up and down.

"…Creepy, more like…" Hilary muttered out of the corner of her mouth. She was sitting on a couch near enough to overhear Tyson, Eddy and Steve's conversation and did not approve of Tyson's glee. Seeing Rei standing behind her, she threw her head back on the couch and looked up at him. "I mean, can you _say _obsessed fanboy?"

Rei just snorted.

"Hey… you know, _I-a _would not-a mind having _ze _obsessed girl-friends _come quella_" '_like that' _"If you-a know what I mean. Eh? Eh?" Enrique winked at Lee and nudged him with his elbow. Raising an eyebrow, Lee looked bemused at the Italian's insinuation.

"People, people! If I may have your attention please!" Mr. Dickenson, standing in the centre of the room, clinked a tiny spoon against his glass. When both everyone had quietened, Mr. Dickenson made a pleased sound around his whiskers and placed his glass and spoon on a nearby table. Curling one hand around the head of his walking stick and the other over his rounded stomach, he took a breath and addressed his audience. "Yes, thank you. Now, I believe lunch has lasted long enough. So, if our heads are not too fuzzy from all the food then I would suggest that we head back into the board room for the conclusion of the meeting." Mr. Dickenson laughed and was joined by a half-hearted murmur from the crowd.

There came the sound of shuffling footsteps and a general rumble of chatter as everyone stood, making their way to the conference room. But as more and more people exited the room it became apparent that there were some deliberately lagging behind.

First was Kai, who—with his apparent aversion to crowds—was waiting for the stream of people to thin before following them into the board room.

And second was the rest of the Bladebreakers: Tyson, Max, Rei and Kenny, who—after shooing an exasperated Hilary away—had huddled together in an impromptu conference.

"Yes!" Tyson insisted.

"No!" Rei whispered adamantly.

"_Why_?" Tyson scowled.

"I already told you this before; we don't want to force him into something he's not ready to talk about!" Rei answered.

Tyson was unconvinced. "But if it was me, _I'd_ think you guys didn't care or something if you avoided me for this long—"

"We're not talking about _you, _Tyson." Rei sighed. "Kai's very different from you; he thinks differently. Wants different things."

"It's been a _year _Rei. Not even _you _know what he wants anymore." Tyson said bluntly.

Rei frowned, indignation rising in his amber eyes.

"…C'mon guys, let's not fight." Max pleaded, looking back and forth between the two boys. "We already decided we'd talk to Kai later about what happened to him this past year. We don't have to keep arguing over and over about something we already figured out…"

"You know," Kenny added. "We could just—" But the rest of his words were drowned out by Tyson's angry voice.

"No, Max. I've had it. I'm not waiting any longer for answers. Whatever decision we made happened before we saw Boris drag Kai away. Now we know he's in some trouble and I'll be damned if I let him go through that alone again!" And Tyson stormed off, heading directly toward Kai, who was standing nonchalantly near the heavy, wooden doors of the conference room.

"Urgh, Tyson!" Rei called uselessly after the teen. He shot a glance to Max, who only shrugged helplessly. Rei rolled his eyes and fell into a jog, following after Tyson. Max joined him and Kenny tagged behind them both.

"Alright, Kai! You've got some explaining to do!" Tyson took a stance in front Kai, planting his feet and folding his arms tightly across his chest.

But Kai wasn't even looking at him. His eyes were off to the side, attention miles away. He didn't even respond to Tyson's voice. So surprised was he by Kai's unusual inattentiveness that Tyson momentarily faltered in his determination, taking a moment to stare openly at Kai's distracted, and vaguely troubled, expression before pulling himself together.

"Kai, hey Kai!" Tyson forced his voice to sound annoyed, and to not reveal the worry he was actually feeling. "Are you even listening to me?"

Kai gave a tiny jerk, a miniscule widening of his eyes and then snapped his head over to face Tyson.

* * *

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* * *

My mind is a mess.

As a personal rule, I dislike chaos. I do not like momentary panic that comes with having lost something of importance nor the sloppy confusion of doing things at the last second. As anyone who has ever shared a room with me would know, I am tidy to the point of obsessiveness; like a blind man's obligation, everything has a place and is always in its place.

This meticulousness has transferred itself into my thought process. If a subject requires my attention I focus on it exclusively, not allowing any other distractive thoughts. I categorize things, think about one thing until I am satisfied, then move on to the next: like a complex mathematical problem, my mind works in steps—always working them out in sequence and never jumping ahead.

But right now… I cannot seem to grasp any single one of my thoughts long enough to even attempt to organize them.

Tala… what was he talking about? Friends, we could not have been friends. I would have known… my memory cannot be _that _splintered…

Which brings up the point of how he had heard about the amnesia… and how _Boris _of all people had known.

… Boris… What is he up to? Is he working with my Grandfather—Voltaire? Why? What is in it for him? What is Voltaire paying him? Money? But Boris has never been concerned about money, or he wouldn't be running an _Abbey _of all things. Then what? What could Voltaire be offering Boris?

And why is Voltaire suddenly trying to act sympathetic and Grandfatherly, when he had no qualms over throwing me out a year ago? He calls disinheritance a _punishment?_ What sort of Grandfather tries to prove a point by throwing his grandson out of the streets with nothing?

Then there's the issue of returning. I left the Huos—a perfectly nice, hospitable family—to come back here. _Here_, to this circus of dancing clowns and zoo creatures. I should have stayed with the Huos…

But no, I could not have stayed. I refuse to leech off that family any longer than necessary. And I was stifling there; a slow suffocation in a life where I had nothing: no money, no education. Where I was no one—worse—was hiding behind a false identity, knowingly throwing away every accomplishment I had ever made… _happily_ waving goodbye to every ambition I had…

But then, if I had willingly made the decision to come here…can I really complain about the situation I now find myself in? It is childish, hypocritical even, to complain about a choice I myself made. Tala, Boris, Voltaire… I knew they would all be here and yet I came regardless; now I am whining about how things are not as perfect as I wanted them to be? How—

"Kai, hey Kai! Are you even listening to me?"

The world comes into sudden, sharp focus as I blink; and it is only with a sheer exertion of will that I manage not to recoil away from the unexpected, too near voice. I look around, and spot Tyson, Max, Rei and Kenny staring at me with unreadable expressions.

Careless would have been letting just one person sneak up on me. Four was just plain stupidity.

"Hey, Kai," Tyson asks, cocking his head to the side. There's an odd look on his face, like he'd bitten into a lemon and was trying not to show it. "You alright?"

Taking it as a rhetorical question that would only cause more problems to answer, I simply raise one eyebrow and keep watching him. Seconds pass in silence and Tyson fidgets under my eyes. It occurs to me that he must have something rather important to say, or else he would not still be standing in front of me.

"Kai, c'mon, we saw Boris over there; why won't you tell us what's wrong?" Tyson is practically pleading with me.

I stiffen, and I know my expression had hardened from the way Max, standing behind Tyson, drops his eyes.

"My business does not concern you." I say shortly. I will not talk with them about this. Who are they to know, or understand? Especially when I do not completely understand myself.

My eyes go to Rei and I give him a significant look. I thought he had more sense than to try and force an issue like this. He sends me an expression that could have been interpreted as apologetic then shifts his gaze to Tyson. He looks like he is debating grabbing Tyson and hauling him away. Letting out a long breath, Rei just lays a hand on Tyson's shoulder.

"No, Rei." Tyson rolls his shoulder, knocking Rei's hand off, and sets his jaw stubbornly. "This is important, and it needs to be said. Look Kai, if this is about what happened the past year we're sorry; alright? We would have come after you if we'd known you were stuck in Russia. But man, Kai! If you needed the money you could've just told one of us; we would've helped you out! You could've even stayed with me and Gramps in the dojo if you'd wanted!"

I had thought I was past his anger. I thought I had put my indignation and wounded pride behind me with all its petty triviality… But it is these words, these simple words from a simple boy, that tear so _easily _into that old wound.

How _dare he_ insinuate that I am to blame for his own short-sightedness.

'If I had told them' 'If I'd wanted'… If I'd asked for _help_—

"I don't need you help." I grind out between my teeth.

"Oh come on! You really expect us to believe that?" Tyson rolls—_rolls_—his eyes; like I am some _child_ throwing a _tantrum_. "Putting aside the fact that you look like you've lost like, twenty pounds and those jeans you're wearing are practically falling apart; you're obviously in some major trouble. I mean, you lied about where you've been staying—yeah Kai, we totally don't buy that 'Grandmother' story of yours—Boris is after you, and Voltaire's been giving you these weird looks since you arrived! Why won't you just TELL us what's wrong!?"

"Do I amuse you?" My voice is very low, and very controlled. I realize that I have passed the point of anger and entered into a dangerous calm. I can see right through him. I sneer. "Do you think that treating me like some charity case is going to absolve you of your guilt? Is that it?" My words seem to physically rock Tyson, whose mouth falls open in shock.

"What—no! No! I didn't—how could you think—?" Words seem beyond Tyson as he stutters incoherently. I am aware of my face twisting into an expression Voltaire always wore when he discovered some particularly distasteful secret of mine.

"Stop this! Tyson, just stop talking; you're not helping." Rei suddenly comes between us and shoulders Tyson behind him. I turn my expression on Rei, wondering what sort of sugary, friendship speech he will try to give to cover up Tyson's tactless words. "And you," Rei looks at me. "You know very well Tyson doesn't mean anything bad by what he says; so stop twisting his words into personal attacks. We're on _your _side here. I know this isn't the best time to ask you to talk but that doesn't mean you can just bite off our heads for no reason! We just want to _help_."

Help…

It is like there is magic in that one word; spoken in that tone, from Rei… My mind empties in one fell swoop and the expression on my face dies. Anger, triumph, derision, disappointment, everything just fades away leaving me empty; tired.

Where was this help of theirs when I actually needed it?

This thought is fleeting and transient. With no real feeling behind it, it just melts back into the nothing it came from.

Rei looks at me, eyes narrowing in thought and he frowns. He has realized the change in my demeanour, the invisible wall that had just been erected between them and I, and he is most probably trying to figure out what caused it. Not really particularly wanting to act out the curious lab rat, I turn away.

"I suggest you take your generosity elsewhere." I say quietly my shoulder. "As I neither want nor require your aid." I walk away.

"Kai!" Tyson, stubborn as always, refuses to just let things lie and chases after me. He stops just short of grabbing my by the arm and spinning me around—a wise decision on his part. "No wait. You can't just walk away from us, we're a team! We're friends!" He spreads his arms, gesturing desperately. "Remember Lake Baikal?"

And it probably is an innocent comment from him, meant to inspire me of the camaraderie and openness I had shown them on the Lake that day… But to me it brings an awful, bitter taste to my tongue.

True, that day—when they saved me from nearly drowning in the freezing water of Lake Baikal—I had felt the bond of friendship between us: it was a nearly painful revelation, one that I was ill suited and ill prepared to make, especially in the state I had been in.

Tyson thinks he is making a point. But this one, single example—where my only choices had been: take their friendship or drown—is hardly a model of the idyllic friendship he is trying to portray.

I had been vulnerable to them—weak, disoriented and confused—and like a confused child I latched onto the first gracious hand extended toward me. The gratefulness I had felt was genuine, and honestly, I had planned on becoming closer to them.

But time—much time—had passed and the feeling had faded; dwindled to nothing.

There needs to be more than just a single instance. Friendship does not form with the snap of fingers; it forms with trust, loyalty and dedication. They had but one single instance where they extended a hand to me when I was desperate; and they think rehashing it and throwing it in my face will somehow make me want to be best friends with them?

Perhaps I do not want friends who will try to use my weakest moments against me.

Perhaps I want friends whose acts of kindness and amicability cannot be counted on just one hand.

And just maybe, I would have wanted friends to whom these acts came naturally—did not have to be forced by dire circumstances or guilty consciences.

Looking up, I see Tyson standing directly in my way. Years of dealing with this kind of behaviour backed me; and I catch his gaze, holding it with my own before pointedly narrowing my eyes. I take an aggressive step forward and Tyson immediately moves out of my way. I pass him; but even as I do I can't help the hint of disappointment that softens the corner of my eyes as I look sideways at the teen.

Perhaps I do not want a friend so malleable to my whim.

"Hey… Kai…" A quiet voice interrupts my thoughts just as I reach the door and I pause.

I turn.

"Um…" Max fidgets, but sets his jaw firmly. I know that this is something he desperately wants to say; he only ever copies Tyson's stubbornness when he's willing himself not to back down. "I just… I just wanted to know: wherever you've been staying… You're fine there, right? Like, you're… safe…" The last words are a mumbled passing of breath and I need to make an effort to hear them.

I let out a breath of air into what is more or less a sigh. Max always makes it incredibly difficult to hold grudges, even valid ones. Tyson's obnoxious attitude is infuriating and Rei's perceptiveness is irritating. But Max is always open, sincere. More naïve and innocent than any of the Bladebreakers, even I find myself hesitating before straining that fragility too much.

"Yes, Max." I breathe. "I'm fine."

A huge smile breaks out across his face and I wonder at how such few, meagre little words strung together can make him so happy.

Deciding that some things, at least, will always be beyond my comprehension, I put a hand on the door and open it, entering the conference room. Tyson, Rei, Max and Kenny are forced to follow.

* * *

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* * *

"Let us begin." Mr. Dickenson sat at the head of the oval table, his hands folded neatly in front of him as he looked out at the people assembled before him.

Seated on his right were Mrs. Marseilles, Robert, Alex Tate and Kai; and on his left were Lee, Judy, Boris and Voltaire. In Mrs. Fosters' absence there was an empty seat next to Judy, which, on Mr. Dickenson's insistence, had been taken by Mr. Granger. Everyone else had slumped back against the walls, mentally preparing themselves to take another four, long hours of boring, technical talk.

Tala stood with his heels against the dark, stained wooden wall, his thumbs hooked into the pockets of his pants. One occasion, he would send Kai surreptitious looks from underneath his bangs; looks that, for all Tala could tell, were being completely ignored by other teen.

"Now, I think perhaps it is time for us to address the true reason why I asked you all to assemble here today." At Mr. Dickenson's words, the atmosphere in the room noticeably changed as everyone's ears perked up. Backs straightened, the low murmur of quiet chatter ceased and everyone looked at Stanley.

Mr. Dickenson looked around, catching a few of the teens' bright eyed looks, his moustache twitched in amusement. "Oh come now!" He said with a short chuckle. "Surely you all didn't think I assembled the top Beybladers in the world to talk about interest payments and debt management!"

A low, ambiguous, mumble was his answer.

"Well! While those are certainly relevant issues, I'm afraid that our next topic is a much more sobering concern." Stanley sighed heavily. "As you are all probably aware, last year's International Tournament caused a big uproar worldwide. At this time, Beyblading is the subject of much controversy in many countries…" Here the Chairman paused, opening the topic for discussion.

"I agree." Robert nodded. "_V_hile the formation of teams has never been a common practice in Europe; it is now being discouraged by the Government. They _v_ant to decrease the number of European teams competing _v_orld_v_ide."

"In Japan more parents are looking at Beyblading as being something dangerous that they shouldn't let their kids do." Mr. Tate added helpfully; he could feel Max's eyes on his back and turned to give his son a reassuring smile.

"In America there is no real change in attitude. State Law hasn't even touched the issue, let alone Federal Law. But concerned parents have started to congregate outside Beystadiums during tournaments to protest." Judy put in.

"I… do not know about rest of China." Lee said hesitantly. "But in village, Beyblade is custom. And we do not give up our custom."

"Hey wait a sec!" Tyson, who had been sitting against the wall, shoved himself to his feet and took a few steps forward. "I never heard about any of this. People protesting against Beyblade? People wanting to discourage tournaments? Why would they do that? What's all this about, Mr. D?" Tyson looked at the Chairman demandingly.

"Ah Tyson…" Mr. Dickenson shook his head. "With the coverage last year's tournament got, especially the final matches between the Bladebreakers and Demolition Boys…" Here, Stanley sent a glance at Tala who eyed the elder man coldly. Mr. Dickenson broke the eye-contact first and looked at the group in general. "There were certain… occurrences… that caused quite a few people to become concerned."

"What are you talking about?" Tyson's face scrunched in confusion.

Before the Chairman could answer though, Alex picked up the thread for him. "For example, we all saw how the entire stadium had to be evacuated after your match, due to the massive damage your battle did to the building." Alex interlaced his fingers and looked downward pensively.

Tyson blushed sheepishly. "Ah, well… we didn't mean to—"

"Of course not, m'boy! We all know it's just part of the sport of Beyblading! You can't be blamed for something you couldn't control." Mr. Dickenson said encouragingly. "It is the committee, made up of people who haven't stepped out from behind their desks in years, who's at fault. They think that Beyblade is a dangerous sport—"

Rei shifted on the wall. "All sports have an element of danger to them." He said.

"Exactly," Mr. Dickenson nodded. "That's what I said."

"But Mr. Dickenson," Mr. Tate couldn't help but object. "You have to admit, the events of last year; they got out of hand! I won't say it's the _sport_ that's at fault, but there should be _rules_ and _limits_ to what can and cannot be done! I mean, putting this much power in the hands of our children and letting them use it however they wish—you're certainly going to find yourself with some angry parents!" Mr. Tate smacked his palm firmly on the table. Indignant murmurs flooded the room in the wake of his words.

"Dad!" Max cried in shock and embarrassment. But Alex was resolute, he did not take back his words.

"I'm afraid I disagree with you, Mr. Tate." Mr. Dickenson waved Alex's comments off and Mr. Tate looked affronted that his concerns were being taken so lightly by the chairman. "The children are the source of their own power;" Mr. Dickenson continued. "Beyblading is merely an outlet for that power. A very rewarding and motivational outlet, I do say. And Mr. Granger and Mr. Ivanov, while they may have gotten a little out of hand in their fight, no one got hurt and it what happened was hardly either of their faults."

Mr Tate's eyes narrowed and he stared at Mr. Dickenson, who watched the younger man with an unusually stern look on his face. Alex's lips thinned and he looked thoroughly displeased, but he didn't say another word.

"Alright, now that everyone understands the situation; I will tell you why all of you are here today. In half a year's time, the Summer Olympics will begin. At that time, the International Olympic Committee of Sports will be holding a meeting. One of the topics up for discussion is the future of Beyblade."

"Future of Beyblade?" Tyson asked. "What does that mean?"

Bending her head low, so no one could see her face, Hilary mouthed the words 'future of Beyblade' to herself with a wry smirk. "How melodramatic can they get?" She murmured under her breath.

"It means," Mr. Dickenson's voice rose and he made a wide, impressive gesture with on hand. "If we cannot do something to persuade them otherwise, not only will Beyblade be banned from the Olympics games, but international tournaments will be prohibited. And if that happens, it'll only be a matter of time before Beyblade is banned as a sport altogether."

Stunned silence was all that met this bold statement for many moments. Then the protests started.

"No way!" Tyson gaped.

"They can't do that!" Came a random cry.

"That isn't fair!" Yet another person blurted.

"It_h _i_z injustice!_" Oliver cried, emotion made his accent thicker than usual and he said the last word completely in its French counterpart.

"What he said." Michael nodded at Oliver. "I mean, what about freedom of speech and all that? They can't just… not allow us to Beyblade. Isn't it against the law or something?"

"You're talking about American Law you dolt." Emily rolled her eyes at Michael in exasperation. "International Laws are different."

"Shut up!" Michael huffed. "I'm still right though, aren't I? They shouldn't be _allowed_ to take away our right to play whatever sport we want."

Emily reddened. "Don't you tell me to shut up!"

"Oh will ya give it a rest, man?" Johnny scowled. "This ain't about neither of ya so can yeh just shut yer yaps?"

Emily and Michael both turned to Johnny with equally furious looks.

"Guys… we shouldn't be fighting… Shouldn't we be working together to figure this out?" But Max's plea went unheard as the noise level rose in the room, but Rei placed a hand on Max's shoulder and squeezed. Max looked up at the other boy, smiling gratefully at the silent comfort.

* * *

'**;**.**;**'

_On the other side of the room…_

'**;**.**;**'

* * *

The Russian team had converged for a quiet discussion of their own.

"_**I**_**I** _This is bull, __**I**_**I**" Ian snarled in Russian. "_**I**_**I** _A bunch of fat, bald, rich __**bourgeoisie**__ think they can just clap their hands and the world will bow their heads. I don't think so! __**I**_**I**" Ian scowled, and looked away. The word he'd used, '_bourgeoisie' _was old communist slang for the upper middle class. It was a manner of speaking that was slowly being ceded out of greater Russia, but the old ways remained strong in the Abbey; just as members of the Abbey all had the common title of '_Tovarisch', _in spite of internal hierarchy that split the boys into ranks.

Bryan tsked. "_**I**_**I** _Don't listen to the old fool. __**I**_**I**" He said. "_**I**_**I** _If something this important was going on, the Director would have told us. __**I**_**I**"

"_**I**_**I** _What if… he didn't know? __**I**_**I**" Spencer said slowly, as though even he didn't really believe his own words.

Bryan scoffed. It was a crude, derisive sound.

"_**I**_**I** _I dunno, Bryan. __**I**_**I**" Ian's beady eyes shifted back and forth. The youngest of all the Demolition Boys, he'd arrived at the Abbey two years after Kai had left. He was also the one that best remembered what it was like to live outside the stone walls of their home and prison. "_**I**_**I** _Boris doesn't know _everything… _**I**_**I**" Bryan's scornful look conveyed exactly what he thought about that; and Ian, at a loss, turned to Tala.

"_**I**_**I** _What do you think, Tala? __**I**_**I**" Ian asked. When no answer was forthcoming, Ian's brows furrowed and he looked at Tala closer. "_**I**_**I** _Tala? __**I**_**I**" But the older boy wasn't even looking at him. Tala's unusual distracted behaviour caught Bryan and Spencer's attention as well, and they both looked at their captain.

Spencer, was the first to realize what Tala was so absorbed by, and though he heaved a sigh, he said nothing.

Bryan, second to follow Tala's gaze and discover the recipient, was not so forgiving.

"_**I**_**I** Tala_, you fool. __**I**_**I**" Bryan snapped; he reached out and caught Tala's arm in a tight grip. Tala jerked his head around at the unexpected touch and frowned down at Bryan's hand on his sleeve, then drew his eyes up to Bryan's face, his expression clearly warning Bryan to let go.

"_**Niet.**_" _No. _Bryan refused, and dug his fingers harder into Tala's arm to show his displeasure. Tala's expression darkened, but still he said nothing. "_**I**_**I** _This; this right here, __**I**_**I**" Bryan sent a look at Spencer and Ian. "_**I**_**I** _This is your team. Not _him_. He is not part of us, never was. __**I**_**I**"

"_**I**_**I** _Yeah Tala, __**I**_**I**" Ian said, backing up Bryan. "_**I**_**I** _Ever since you saw him in the tournament last year, you've been acting weird. I mean, who is that guy anyway? He was at the Abbey for what—two years? Big deal! You've known all of us for much longer than that! Why are you always pushing us aside for him? Is he more important to you or something? __**I**_**I**" Ian's words were meant to draw a reaction from Tala: some denial or even reassurance.

But Tala did neither of these things. Instead he brushed Ian's words off indifferently. "_**I**_**I** _Don't talk nonsense, Ian. __**I**_**I**" Tala said, and with one hand he calmly pried Bryan's fingers off his arm.

"_**I**_**I** _Tala— __**I**_**I**" Bryan started, but when Boris's head turned to glance back at them, Bryan abruptly cut off his words, his teeth clicking together. All four teens broke away from each other and pretended they'd never been talking.

Boris glowered at them for many long moments; his colourless eyes slowly scoured the perfectly blank faces of each teen. Eventually, not finding what he wanted, and irritated by it, the Director's lip curled and, with a sharp twist, his head turned away from them.

Lacking the brazenness to challenge Boris' patience again, silence lingered between the Demolition Boys and the ill resolved conflict hung in the air over their heads.

Spencer though, was watching Tala closely. The younger redhead's eyes had once again strayed, drawn like a magnet to its polar opposite, and Spencer followed the invisible line of Tala's gaze to its inevitable end.

Kai Hiwatari.

Spencer did not know the boy well. In the days before Tala befriended him, he'd been the runt of the Abbey. Without even a name, he was called whatever derogatory diminution Vasili had seen fit at the time. And with the sweeping jealousy over how much time Kai had spent with the Director, there had been many.

Spencer hadn't cared; he'd stood idly by while Vasili and Bryan had bullied and tormented the kid. After all, at the Abbey everyone only looked out for themselves; it didn't pay to stick your neck out for someone else; you'd just get your head chopped off. And if the runt couldn't handle a little roughness he didn't deserve to be at the Abbey.

Spencer had known Tala since before the Abbey. They'd spent some time together in the same orphanage, but had never been close. It was only after Kai left, and once the Demolition Boys had been formed, that Spencer had started to know Tala better.

But Tala had never talked about the younger, dual-haired boy.

Then, six years later—when Spencer had nearly forgotten about the small kid who had once been the feared Blue-Fourth of the Abbey—he had returned. It had become impossible then, to ignore his presence: arrogant and cocky, with eyes that mocked as he casually fingered the coveted Black Dranzer bit—the Blue-Fourth had returned to the Abbey.

Introduced for the first time as Kai Hiwatari, grandson of Lord Hiwatari himself, Spencer could not understand why Kai had kept his name a secret all those years ago. As a kid, Kai had had an identification number—it was the lowest rank possible at the Abbey. He had worked himself upward—slowly and painfully, like everyone else—to become an elite.

Had he said his real name he would have skyrocketed to the top of the hierarchy, what had stopped him?

Not really curious enough to ask, Spencer had once again stepped back and observed the teen in silence. Bryan seemed to have an instant hatred for Kai, while Ian was resentful that he'd been pushed aside by this stranger who was monopolizing both Boris' and Tala's time.

Kai had defected soon after, and Spencer had thought the team all the better for it. It was like there had been a thin string binding all their hands together, and the slightest force would break the connection and throw them all into chaos. That strain, the stifling tension, had disappeared when Kai left.

And when Spencer had faced Kai in the Beystadium, his intention had been to prove that they, the Demolition Boys, had never needed Kai to begin with.

But then Kai had thrown the match.

Spencer frowned. He didn't like being in debt to someone.

And Kai was fickle. Who knew why he did the things he did? Nonetheless, Boris had been furious after they lost the World Championships last year; Kai had done him a greater favour than he probably even realized.

Which was why he didn't interfere when Tala went to confront Kai in the washroom, and why he didn't object to Tala's distracted behaviour now.

Unexpectedly, Kai shifted in his chair, and drew his eyes upward. By chance, he caught Tala's eyes and they locked. Some unknown understanding must have passed between them just then because when Tala looked away he had relaxed and there was confidence in his posture, replacing the stiffness that had been there before.

Spencer didn't understand what exactly the relationship between Tala and Kai was, but as long as it didn't harm Tala, he would tolerate it. It was the least he could do.

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Angry, indignant comments flew back and forth across the room uncontrolled for a long time before the shock finally passed and the chatter stuttered, lulled and quietened before finally dying.

Mr. Dickenson, waiting until the very last person to stop talking, finally leaned forward in his chair. "Yes, as we all can see, this is a very serious situation that demands our immediate attention."

"I'll say." Kevin grunted and got promptly shushed by Mariah.

"So, what I need from all of you… Is to know where we should go from here." Mr. Dickenson leaned back, placing his arms on the armrests.

Mr. Tate looked taken aback. "You're asking us?"

Mr. Dickenson looked briefly at the other man, before sweeping his eyes through the teens seated around the table. "Well, yes. Of course. You are all the ideal representatives of what today's Beyblading population wants. If there ever were a good opinion to get, it would be yours." Mr. Dickenson smiled.

Mr. Tate shook his head. "But Mr. Dickenson, don't you have a board of people to do this? You're asking a handful of adults and _children_ to make the decision of trained—"

"So!" Mr. Dickenson spoke over Alex. "Do we have any suggestions?"

Murmured, noncommittal half-sentences fluttered throughout the room.

"What I personally would like to know…" When Voltaire spoke, he did it confidently and without hesitance. Instantly, everyone quietened to listen to him, such was the quality of his tone; he did not even have to raise his voice, "Is against whom exactly these complaints were made."

"…Ah…" Mr. Dickenson shifted and looked away. "It was general, there weren't specific—"

"Names, Stanley." Voltaire demanded softly.

There was a long pause, and everyone turned their eyes to Mr. Dickenson. It seemed that, even though the question had come from Voltaire, everyone was curious enough to shelf their dislike of the man long enough to find out what Mr. Dickenson was going to say.

Realizing that he wouldn't be able to escape answering, Mr. Dickenson sighed. "Most, of the complaints were made against two teams…"

Voltaire waited; his silence, though, spoke loudly. Mr. Dickenson exhaled before continuing.

"The Russian Demolition Boys…" Here there came mumbles of understanding, that name came as no surprise to anyone.

"…And the Japanese Bladebreakers." Mr. Dickenson ended reluctantly.

Silence fell.

Alex Tate took the moment to look back at his son, who looked floored, then up to Tyson and Rei, who had similar expressions on their faces. When he looked sideways at Kai, though, he was surprised to see the rather neutral look on the teen's face; almost as though Kai had been expecting Mr. Dickenson's words.

Voltaire's lip quirked downward on one end. He looked amused. "You said 'most', Stanley. If these were the complaints against teams in general then I assume there were complaints against specific people." Voltaire never spoke in questions, never requested or asked anyone for anything. Instead his undertone simply required a response.

"You're right." Mr. Dickenson admitted grudgingly. "They were all against the same two teams. Mr. Ivanov was mentioned, as was Mr. Kuznetsov." Tala stiffened and Bryan frowned. "And Mr. Granger." Here Tyson spluttered. "And Mr. Hiwatari."

Voltaire's amusement, if nothing else, grew. His eyes slid to Kai and they locked gazes for a long moment.

"Then my suggestion, _Chairman_." The last word was said with a distinct air of condescension. "Is that if the people are calling, not for the abolishment of Beyblading, but the removal of a few minor miscreants, then we should simply appease their ire and give them what they want."

Voltaire had the pleasure of seeing his grandson's eyes widen, focus sharply on him as his jaw slacked, lips parting very slightly in ill-concealed incredulity. Deciding that the boy's face was entirely too open, Voltaire's own mouth thinned and he raised an eyebrow pointedly at his grandson. It was to his immense satisfaction that he saw Kai react almost subconsciously to his disappointment: the boy's features immediately straightened out into a controlled, if not distasteful, look. Voltaire wondered at how many of his grandson's other instincts had remained intact.

"You… you cannot be serious." Mr. Dickenson's stunned stutter brought Voltaire's attention back to the other people in the room. He gazed at the man with a calm look.

"I am." He said.

The hush that had fallen over the room showed that Mr. Dickenson was not the only one astonished by Voltaire's bold proclamation, but there was no on in the room more taken aback than the Russians themselves.

Boris looked as though he'd been punched in the gut and stared at Voltaire openly; behind him all four of the Demolition boys had an ashen look to their face.

They would not believe it if Mr. Dickenson had told them the world was ending, but these few words from Voltaire Hiwatari—calm words, spoken idly in a nonchalant manner—turned their worlds upside down. They believed him implicitly, and did not doubt his words for a second. If Voltaire said they were going to be removed from Beyblading, then they would be removed from Beyblading. It was as simple as that.

Tala could not control the erratic twitching in his left hand.

The primary purpose of the Abbey was to provide tutelage for young orphans skilled in Beyblade. Schooling was a secondary afterthought compared to Beyblade. Those who fought well enough in the Beystadium entered tournaments; and if they won the money went straight to the Abbey. It was one of the institute's main sources of income.

Those who could not Beyblade were dead weight to the Abbey. And with a never ending source of starving young boys eager to learn and succeed, dead weight was liability that was disposed of without regret.

Tala did not want to go back on the streets, he _wouldn't_.

But he couldn't understand it: Voltaire was the prime shareholder of the Abbey, without him, the place wouldn't even exist. What could he possibly gain from having it loose four of its best bladers? And then Tala looked over to Kai, whose expression conveyed the sensation of having smelt something particularly disgusting. Voltaire wasn't just suggesting the disposal of the Demolition Boys, but of _Kai_ as well. His own Grandson.

It made no sense. The pieces didn't fit. There had to be some motive, some _reason_ for even making that insane suggestion. But nothing, nothing came to Tala's mind

"Do you even know what you're saying?!" Tyson suddenly exploded, shattering the silence. Max shushed his friend, but Tyson ignored him and took an aggressive step forward to stand directly between Alex and Kai's chairs. "I mean, sure, I get you trying to kick me, Max and Rei out, you probably hate us. But those guys?!" Tyson gestured toward the Demolition Boys. "They're on YOUR side! And Kai!" Tyson thrust his hand toward Kai, who raised a fine eyebrow as Tyson's fingers nearly poked him in the eye. "He's your Grandson! What sort of a Grandfather are you, trying to separate your own Grandson from something he loves!"

"…Separated from something he loves…" Voltaire's words were low, thoughtful and held too many insinuations. He steepled his hands and rested his nose on the tips of his fingers. He caught Kai's eyes and held them. "Imagine."

Kai's face seemed too pale, and his expression was frozen. But Tyson, in his exuberance, didn't notice the silent exchange.

Tala however, was only too aware of the silent exchange between Grandfather and Grandson. His nose wrinkled as he frowned. What had just passed between the lines of that comment?

"No! You shouldn't be doing that it's—!" Tyson was roughly grabbed by Rei and hauled backward before he could say something he'd regret. Rei sent an apologetic look at Mr. Dickenson on Tyson's behalf and Stanley sighed but nodded.

"S-surely there's another way. Mr. Hiwatari, I… I appreciate your opinion, but certainly it's a course to take only if there is no other option." Mr. Dickenson said, trying to smooth over Tyson's brash words.

"Naturally, Stanley. I wouldn't expect it any other way." Voltaire acted for all the world like Tyson had never even spoken. Under Rei's firm, restraining hand, the navy haired boy fumed at having been so easily disregarded.

"Alright then…" Mr. Dickenson said stiffly, then looked around the room. "Are the any _other _suggestions?"

"I have one." Ryu Granger raised his hand high into the air.

"Gramps?" Tyson frowned warily.

Mr. Granger lowered his hand, and winked at Tyson; which only served to deepen the boy's bemused expression. Ryu turned to Mr. Dickenson. "The little dude," he nodded at Tyson. "Tells me Beyblade is a Winter Olympic Sport, yeah?" At Mr. Dickenson's hesitant nod, Mr. Granger gave a bigger, more purposeful nod of his own. "Well then; all these Misters and Misses 'Somebody Important's are gonna sit around a big table in six months and decide if we here are gonna have Beyblade in the next Winter Olympics…" Mr. Granger seemed to be making the comment mostly to himself, but Stanley nodded nonetheless.

"Ok then, why don't we…" Mr. Granger paused and looked around dramatically. He was met with a sea of impatient looks, but his huge grin never faded. "Have an exhibition match!"

"… Huh?" Johnny grunted.

People exchanged glances.

"Please, Mr. Granger, explain." Mr. Dickenson made an indulgent gesture of his hand.

"Dontcha see? It's simple!" Mr. Granger leaned back in his chair, that same silly grin on his face. Mr. Tate couldn't help but be amazed at the dichotomy between this lackadaisical child-in-adult clothing and the serious, sly man he'd recently gotten to know. "They want proof that Beyblade isn't dangerous, so let's show them! Summer Olympics. Exhibition match to kick off the events. Call on the best Beybladers across the world; we'll have no teams, no separation by country, just pure talent and determination!" Mr. Granger pumped a fist. "Just like in the good ol' days; why I remember—"

"A-anyway!" Tyson quickly interrupted his Grandfather, knowing only too well where that conversation was going. "Mr. D, what does Gramps mean? Do you think it'll work?"

Mr. Dickenson thought for a moment and 'Hm'ed, stroking his moustache. "It gives us an option, and I'll have to see if the board will allow us the time…" The Chairman trailed off.

"But what did he mean by no teams?" Emily piped up. "We've been training with our team mates for years; our whole strategy is based on how we work together! You can't just expect up to throw that all away!"

Sensing the imminent break out of another argument, Mr. Dickenson rushed to reply. "No, no, we don't mean anything like that!" Mr. Granger's raised eyebrows seemed to beg to differ. Stanley looked at him briefly and Mr. Granger shrugged. This seemed to please Mr. Dickenson and he turned back to Emily. "We need to think about the best way to go about this." Then Stanley turned to everyone and addressed them as a whole. "This gives us an alternative, and another direction to turn besides just waiting by and letting the board make our decisions for us." Mr. Dickenson carefully hedged around mentioning Voltaire's previous suggestion. "I think that, for today at least, we should break and go back to the hotels. Get some rest, clear your minds and after I hear back from the board we will open up this topic for discussion again."

"That's it? You expect us all to just continue like nothing happened?" Tyson asked, disbelieving. "What about our future! What about Beyblading?! We need to do something!"

"We are doing something." Rei, coming up behind Tyson, put a hand on the shorter boy's shoulder. "Not everything can be solved with the snap of your fingers." Rei nodded at Mr. Dickenson who smiled and looked back at everyone.

"We will end here. I suggest you all take full advantage of your time and enjoy yourselves; because whether we like it or not, from here on out things are going to change."

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_**End Chapter Twenty-Six**_

…_**To Be Continued **_

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And it's true, they are XD

YES! Finally, we have reached the END of the meeting! Whew (wipes forehead), now we can finally START this thing… (Start?! Start, you say?! This story is already 26 chapters long! XD Yeah, I know, but trust me, I wasn't joking when I said this story was going to be long…hehe). I wonder though… does anyone even have an idea of WHAT'S going to happen now? Hmm… I've given clues… but they've been buried and hidden away throughout the fic, so I wouldn't be surprised if you aren't sure ;p Keeps the suspense alive, I guess! XD

**Anonymous.: **Hee hee, not quite 100 chapters… yet! XD But yeah, I plan on finishing it; updating has been difficult recently (gurgh, midterms, assignments, and whatnot) but I hope the length of this chapter made up for that! ;p

**NorthWind:** :D Sure your English ability is impressive!! I mean you should hear my French (shifty eyes)… Ok maybe you shouldn't XD Anyway! More of a information chapter this time, although the conversation between Kai, Tyson, Max and Rei (and Kenny ;p) was fun to write; I hope you liked! And thanks so much for your nice comments (blushes) hee :3

**Evanescente: **Ooh, you know Portuguese and Spanish? That's so awesome! I know a tiny, tiny bit of Spanish, but I've only ever gawked uncomprehendingly at Portuguese (Actually, I went to Lisbon for a week once… learned like… three words XD). At any rate, yup, getting inside Kai's head is just way too much fun for me! Actually this chapter (even though it took forever *rolls eyes*) was fun 'cause I finally got to explore Kai's thoughts (and maybe even… fears? *gasp!* Sh! Don't say a word; never happened! I never said a thing! XD) about the Bladebreakers… And just what IS Voltaire thinking?? Hmmm (evil grin). Boris also is so much fun to write (claps hands). Evil, psychopathic, creepy maniacs think so… differently from Kai, Tyson and all the good guys! :D So does Voltaire, actually, though he's a little harder to figure out (even for me, ha). Hope you enjoyed the chappie!

**Irish Potatoes:** Hehe, you know, that scene where Tala confronted Kai in the last chapter was something that I had no idea how to write in the beginning. It's been done a lot in other fanfics, but it usually ends up in one of them spilling their secrets to the other; and I can't see that happening right now in this fic… Also nothing like that has ever happened in the anime, so I really was out in the open as far as referencing went XD But it's so awesome to hear that you liked and could picture the scene! Hehe, tell me what you thought of the chapter!

**TheFallenangel927:** Hi!! Yes, technically you didn't really leave an _anonymous _review; but hey! I enjoyed your PM so much I figured it deserved a mention here (grin). Anyways! Yup, yup, hope you liked the chapter and I promise I'll get to reading your story as soon as I can!

**Thankies to ALL you guys who reviewed! I know it took forever to get this chapter out, thanks for your patience! terracannon876 **(Hehe, yeah, it took awhile to update :) Hope you liked though!)**, Raykou-kun, Yuliya **(Yeah… this chapter ended up being long anyways :p)**, alanacrystal, TheFallenangel927, grimnessreaper, phoenix-falling, BloodRedViolet, ElementalFoxGoddess, Canyx, fawks136, Anonymous., NorthWind, FlamingIce94, Miako6, lady KCassandra, Evanescente, Petalwhisker X Fireheart, kavbj, Irish Potatoes, Apple Senorita, bladz-liska, Okamikai** (I know! I took forever (sheepish grin) ah well… I updated! :D Hope you liked!) **and CleverPhoenix!**

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**Once again!  
**

Check out** Canyx's** drawing at (without the spaces): http: / / canyx. deviantart. com/art/My-Guardian-98964791 If that doesn't work, go to my profile page and click on the link to my Deviantart page. You'll find the picture under my favourites.

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Oh! And look for a Sharingan Eyes Update next weekend: Friday or Saturday!

**Adio!**


	30. For Attention

**Chapter 27**

Greetings from France!! Yes! I have my laptop, and my internet connection (though unbelievably sketchy) does in fact work every now and again XD. So, in short, life right now is a whirlwind of events, school, studying and all that, but I won't bore you with too many details ^.^ What it all boils down to is: I'm going to do my best to write and update. I will not have time though to respond to reviews. I'm really sorry about that last point but it's the best I can do for now. Please continue to review though; I love reading your opinions!

**Disclaimer:** Beyblade and all related characters are property of Takao Aoki. I also don't 'really' own the name of the research facility… since I took the names of an actual nuclear facility and a Russian castle and smooshed them together XD

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**KEY: **_**I**_**I** …_(italics)… __**I**_**I — **denotes a change in language

**-------- **_**I**_**I** …_**(bold)…**_ _**I**_**I — **denotes a second change in language

**-------- ¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤ — **denotes a change in point of view

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Enjoy!

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

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"_Never apologize for showing feeling. When you do so, you apologize for the truth."_

-Benjamin Disraeli (1804-1881)

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**Chapter 27:**** __****For Attention**

"Mr. Hiwatari, would you stay back for a moment?"

I pause at the voice that addresses me from somewhere near my left elbow.

Turning my head vaguely, I glance backward, eyeing Mr. Dickenson's face—a mask of calm nonchalance that had probably taken years to perfect—and seriously consider ignoring his request.

But no, that would be childish. So instead, I turn and meet his eyes fully.

With his drooping waistline, pinstriped suit and bowler hat, Mr. Dickenson resembles a character from some old, American gangster movie. He is very much like a caricature: round and short—emotions deceptively open and unguarded. Mr. Dickenson has the jolly face of a man who cares.

A face that everyone trusts, that everyone is fooled into believing.

I too, trusted that face once… long ago.

My eyes narrow, but Mr. Dickenson holds my gaze as he always does: tiny eyes hidden within wrinkles and pudgy hands posed carefully on his walking stick—acting for all the world like the tension in the air was imaginary.

The conference room empties around us; last to leave are the former Bladbreakers, who's inquisitory remarks are brushed off like stray dust as Mr. Dickenson efficiently ushers them out of the room.

Then it is just the two of us.

"Kai, my boy. You look well."

I am not blind to the sudden drop in formality. My eyebrow rises.

"Well, getting down to business." Dickenson blusters on, trying to fill in the gap my silence has created. "I'm afraid we have some rather unpleasant things to discuss." He purses his lips slightly, as though he were getting ready to scold a small child.

A heavy pause hangs in the air. I wonder if he actually expects me to ask what he wants to talk about. Resisting the urge to cross my arms, I just continue to stare at the elder man evenly while suppressing my annoyance: I had forgotten this aspect of Mr. Dickenson's personality.

"I have to say that I'm very disappointed in you Kai." He starts, shaking his head in a very grave manner. "When you disappeared without saying a word to anyone, I got very worried. I went to great lengths to find you; and then, to find out all along that you were staying with your Grandmother!" The man's voice rises at the end with inflection. "You caused me a lot of distress this past year, my boy. Couldn't you have, at the very least, sent a letter saying where you were? From what your Grandfather said—"

"—What did he say?" The words have left my lips before I can even think about them. Inwardly, I scowl, angered by my eagerness, but unable to will it away.

"He said…" Mr. Dickenson looks up in surprise, as though he hadn't expected my outburst. Then he blinks; the shutters come down over his eyes and he shakes his head again. "It's not important Kai. You shouldn't worry about that. The important thing is that you are here, now. I suppose we can put the past behind us now; as long as you promise not to do something like that again!" Here, a short, cheerful chuckle is inserted. "I'll certainly be looking forward to you leading the Bladbreakers through another spectacular season of Beyblade!" Mr. Dickenson's eyes widen expectantly. And even from behind those thick glasses of his, I can clearly see the fierceness shining through.

Of course, it is about Beyblade. It is always about Beyblade with Dickenson. False concern and doting personality stripped away, this is where his true intentions lay. What the man got out of training adolescents to learn and compete in the sport, I will never know. Perhaps it boosts his reputation. Maybe he gets money out of it. But one thing I know for certain is that compassion certainly is not the main driving force behind Mr. Dickenson's concern.

The Bladebreakers will return for another season of beyblading, if Mr. Dickenson has anything to say about it.

Nonetheless…

My hand strays to my pocket, brushing the smooth face of Dranzer's bit. It has been a long time since I felt the thrill of having a Beyblade in my hand. My last one had been crushed under Voltaire's perfectly polished heel and since then I have been too concerned with daily living conditions to consider buying a new one.

Like the first rush of fresh air on a face that has spent months underground, the memory of flying on Dranzer's wings hits me.

Mr. Dickenson's backhanded attitude, Voltaire's schemes… and Boris, and Tala, and Tyson… They are all distractions. All distractions that I can ignore—that I _will _ignore—if it will get me the one thing I want.

That feeling of complete freedom…

I want that again.

And if staying here will get me that then so be it.

I look up at Mr. Dickenson and give a sharp nod.

Then turn my back before I can see the beaming smile he is probably wearing.

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The other teams have already left by the time Mr. Dickenson and I emerge from the conference room. The only ones left are the Bladebreakers, Mr. Tate, Mr. Granger and the brown-haired girl, awkwardly standing by as they wait for us.

"So…" The girl says aimlessly, shifting on her feet and staring nervously around the room.

"I guess we're going back to the hotel?" Max asks the question to the air before glancing at his father and Mr. Dickenson.

"Well… I doubt anyone's hungry…" Mr. Tate says and is, predictably enough, contradicted by Tyson.

"Hey, I'm hungry!" He raises a hand into the air.

Rei smirks and dismisses Tyson with a wave. "He'll be fine. We ate enough for lunch anyway. If we want something more we can get it from the hotel."

"So it's decided then!" Mr. Dickenson enters the conversation with a disarming smiling. "Let's head on outside then. Mr. Tate, if you could call us a cab?"

Max's father raises his eyebrows. "Me? I don't even know the number… And do they even speak English?"

I tune out the conversation as everyone grabs their coats and heads down the long hallway leading to the exit. Looking up, I glance at the hands of a huge, ornate clock attached to one of the sloping marble walls.

_18:40_

The trains to Izhevsk run at 19:30 and midnight. Considering the fact that I took the night train to come to Moskva—and not wishing to repeat the experience—I make the abrupt decision to head straight for the train station. I should be able to walk there in time—

Then, abruptly, the group halts on the sidewalk and I glace upward. Someone is blocking the way.

_Voltaire._

"I will have a word with my Grandson; if you would." His voice is studiously void of inflection as he regards Mr. Dickenson sternly. Stanley looks surprised and for a moment he just stands there. Tyson, visibly fuming, steps forward.

"I don't think so, you—"

But I have already moved away from the group. A low sound of acquiescence passes from my closed lips. Grandfather's eyes move from resting apathetically on the ranting Tyson to giving me his sharp attention. A certain feeling swells in my chest—pride, I realize, at being able to gain Grandfather's full attention—and is quickly shoved away. Voltaire nods, once, and turns to lead the way to a secluded area of the sidewalk, expecting, without words, for me to follow him.

I move to walk forward, but am stopped by a hand that grabs my arm.

Expecting to look back and see Tyson's indignant face, I raise an eyebrow when, instead, I come eye to eye with Rei's disappointed frown.

"Kai—" He starts.

"Let go." I say calmly, not bothering making it a harsh command.

"Don't do anything stupid." Is all he says before dropping my arm with a brusque toss.

I look at him for a moment, silently wondering if there is some backward, underlying double-meaning to his words. But his eyes are hooded, lips set in a firm line. He looks dissatisfied; as though he is grudgingly accepting that this is something he cannot interfere with.

It is a display of insightfulness that I had not expected from Rei and it makes me pause. Rei has always been smart—quick-witted with that tongue of his—and he has always known when bite down on his sharp comments.

But perhaps he has been a little _too _insightful. Rei is good enough at reading people, but he is not usually so restrained in speaking his mind when he sees something he clearly does not agree with.

Maturity, tact, or something completely different, I am not certain of the change I see in Rei. Whatever it is, it happened over the past year and it made him…

I look at Rei's eyes.

…Distrustful.

It occurs to me then that Rei's personal life is really none of my business; and I look away.

Grandfather is waiting. I can see him standing near one of the snow-covered, emaciated trees that litter the sidewalk.

"Don't tell me you're actually gonna talk to him!" Finally, Tyson's anticipated arguement comes. "I thought you just wanted him to walk away so we could jump into the car and drive away!" I do not have to be looking at Tyson to know he is giving a sly smirk.

Something about the thought of abandoning Grandfather while he is _waiting _for me rubs me the wrong way; and when the quiet chuckles of Rei and Max sound from behind me, I frown.

Without bothering to send any words their way, I stride away from the Bladebreakers and toward Voltaire; ignoring Tyson's surprised call of my name with practiced ease.

Voltaire is alone: Boris and his cronies nowhere in sight. The elder man is facing off to the side, hands behind his back. His high collared, expensive black jacket—lined in fur and long—makes a stark contrast against the pure white snow on the ground. As I walk up to him he does not turn to look at me, just keeps gazing off at some distant object, a pensive look on his face.

"So, you are going with them."

The statement comes out of the blue and I shift my weight, wondering if he expects me to answer. What should I say? I do not expect to go with the Bladebreakers, but I cannot tell Voltaire about the Huos. But Grandfather's voice… it almost sounded resigned. Is he expecting something? Is there a correct response to give?

And then I wonder why I care. I should just tell him that I am going with the Bladebreakers—because I am certainly not going with _him_—his feelings are of no concern to me.

I open my mouth to answer but when he begins to speak I instinctively stop to listen.

"Even after everything I told you; you will still go with them." And he looks at me.

A long silence passes and I have the sudden uncomfortable feeling that he is analyzing me, giving some unspoken test. I fight the urge to scowl, to shift, to turn—to run—and instead hold myself stiffly in place.

Then with a vaguely disappointed sigh, Voltaire takes his eyes off me and once again turns his eyes to that unknown spot in the sky.

My fists clench, teeth press against each other. Again and again, I allow him to influence me like this. He has no right to judge me. I have not done anything. What could he possibly find in me that is so incredibly dissatisfying? What have I done?

"It pains me to see you like that."

Thoughts flee my mind, leaving me unexpectedly blank.

'_What?'_

"Living like a commoner in the filth. I did not raise a rat." Once again he sighs and I run my tongue over my teeth, biting back a sharp remark. In spite of my mind screaming warning bells I want to hear what he has to say. "And I did not raise you to ride on the coattails of others." Here his eyes narrow disapprovingly, though he does not bother to direct the look at me. I feel the rebuke though and look away from his face.

"It is time for you to come back to the place where you belong."

My eyes, currently focused on a particularly bland area of the ground, widen.

"Come home, Kai."

My eyes snap up to his face and meet with intense grey eyes.

He cannot be serious. I must have heard wrong. He actually wants—?

"C'MON, WHAT'S THE HOLD UP?"

Tyson's obnoxiously loud scream pierces the air and I nearly jump at the sound. I had completely forgotten they were here—

—My eyes go to Grandfather. I have no idea what I am looking for.

He has his eyelids half lowered in an expression of strained tolerance as he looks over my shoulder at the Bladebreakers. "I suppose." He starts, "that now is really not the time to be having such conversations. You can go with them, Kai." His permission, given like a parent indulging a child's silly whines, stings less than it should. Instead a different feeling is dominating—disappointment? "But just remember, they threw you away once; they will do it again once you outlive your usefulness."

And then Tyson pounces on my arm, dragging me backward. The thoughts are too loud in my head for me to even consider resisting. As I am pulled backward and unceremoniously stuffed into a large cab the only thing on my mind—the thing that keeps playing over and over before my eyes—is how incredibly lonely Grandfather looked as I left him there standing next to that old, withered tree in the snow.

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Hilary shifted self-consciously in her sat.

They were in an old, rusty, stone-cold cab with torn seats and smudged windows, slowly puttering their way back to the hotel. She blew on her hands and rubbed them together—Russia really was too cold. Unexpectedly, her arm brushed that of the person sitting next to her and Hilary jerked away, heat rising in her cheeks and a stuttered apology on her lips. But Kai Hiwatari didn't even open his eyes; she could have been an ant on the ground for all the attention he paid her. No one else received _this _degree of frigidity from the teen, not even Tyson, and Hilary was a bit put off by it.

'_Is it because I'm new; or because I'm a girl?' _Hilary felt righteous indignation rise within her at that second thought and huffed, puffing out her cheeks as she frowned. Tyson, sitting on the girl's other side, recognized the signs of an impending blow up and edged away; he almost pitied Kai for whatever he'd done to inflame the girl.

"Hey!" Hilary said loudly. Kai didn't even twitch. "Hey, you're Kai, right?" Now his eyes cracked open and he regarded her with a long, insipid stare. Hilary lost her words for a moment as she stared into his deep red eyes; having his attention completely on her like that was disconcerting, especially with him so close. It made her wonder if her gaze was wandering, if she had something on her face… She felt both important and vulnerable. It made her want to back away, to shift her eyes.

But Hilary reminded herself that Kai was just like any other guy and she shouldn't get all flustered over nothing. She took a breath and continued. "My name is Hilary Tatibana, I'm—Hey!" Hilary yelped as she was suddenly grabbed by her upper arms and yanked backward. Loosing her balance, she fell back into someone's chest. Looking up, Hilary's eyes darkened several shades in anger.

"TYSON!"

The navy haired boy was sending Kai a huge, innocent grin before he leaned down to whisper rapidly in Hilary's ear. "_Look Hil, there's really no need for __**everyone**__ to know why you're here_."

"What are you talking about?" Hilary refused to whisper, for the pure ridiculousness of it. "I told other people without you grabbing me like a deranged monkey!"

"_Yeah, but __**he **__doesn't have to know._" Tyson hissed urgently, almost pleadingly. His tone made Hilary raise an eyebrow; did it really make such a difference? She'd thought Tyson didn't care about his academic standing.

She very nearly conceded—if only because of the pitiful look Tyson was giving her—but then she looked up and saw the expressions on Rei and Max's faces. They were both smiling knowingly, but while Max was grinning cheerily, Rei's lips were twitching in a way that was just a little _too _smirky.

Then she looked up at Kai; and she saw how his gaze settled on her and Tyson in such a way that she flushed hotly.

"NO!" She wrenched away from Tyson, not noticing the almost hurt look that flashed across the teen's face. She would _not _be mistaken for Tyson's girlfriend. Especially not by Kai! "I am NOT his girlfriend! I'm his math tutor!" She nodded in satisfaction, even as Tyson's lamenting groans sounded from behind her.

Kai's eyes shifted from her to look up over her shoulder; a disparaging smirk shadowed his mouth as his eyes burned with the dark promise of blackmail. Tyson groaned and dropped his head onto Hilary's shoulder.

"Ooh… why'd you hafta go and do that? He's never gonna let me live this down." Tyson whined, looking like his world had just come to an end.

Hilary shrugged his head off her shoulder. Honestly, when did he start to get so touchy-feely? "That's not my problem." She said dispassionately. "If you want people to stop teasing you about failing math then I suggest you actually start _studying._"

Tyson, if it were possible, looked even more mortified.

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'**;**.**;**'

* * *

In another cab, closely following the first, were Mr. Dickenson, Mr. Tate, Mr. Granger and Kenny.

There hadn't been enough space to fit the whole group in one cab, and so, of course, Kenny had to go with the adults.

With an expression of bitterness that was hidden by large glasses and a scarf, Kenny leaning toward his open laptop, nearly touching his nose to the screen. The adults chattered nearby; occasionally they would try to bring him into the conversation but Kenny didn't really fell like talking.

No… It wasn't just that.

Kenny… just wasn't very good at talking. Beyblade, statistics, school and random facts were all things he could elaborate on endlessly; but when it came to actually having a _conversation_, one that involved spontaneous jokes, silly, nonsensical sentences and non-serious arguments over things that just didn't _matter_, he was at a loss.

To speak and say nothing at all—it was a skill that eluded him.

Kenny sighed, pushed his mop of messy brown hair off his eyes, then chocked back a cry of frustration when it just flopped back, sneaking under his glasses and poking him in the eyes.

Nothing ever worked out for him! Why?! He was smart; sure, he wasn't the most athletic guy in the world, but he thought his brains would at least make up for that.

Then he remembered Emily and the wind left his sails in a rush as he deflated. She was just as smart as him _and _she was an excellent blader…

Kenny wished he were athletic. But as much as he enjoyed analyzing Beyblades—fixing them and deciphering Bitbeast stats—he just wasn't meant to be a blader. He'd tried it once, on Tyson's insistence, the other boy had been appalled why Kenny calmly put the Beyblade down and told him he didn't like to blade. It wasn't his thing. Every time he spun a Beyblade all he could think about was the changes he could make to the base and attack ring—to make it faster, stronger—and he'd loose his concentration and the blade would fall.

He didn't _want _to be a Beyblader.

Yet, hanging out with the Bladebreakers made him want to _want to _be a blader.

Did that even make sense?

…No. It was peer pressure. Kenny recognized that and it reminded him of how the kids used to treat him in middle school. He loathed it.

Subconsciously, Kenny's hand went to his pocket where he fingered the edges of a crisp, textured business card.

So distracted by—whatever they were usually caught up in—the Bladebreakers hadn't realized when Boris Balkov had come over to Kenny and handed him a business card.

Kenny had been shocked, and more than a little scared that this huge, imposing man was paying attention to _him_. There were other people—other, stronger people like Kai and Tyson who could handle Boris, match his fearsome personality with stolid stubbornness. They did a perfectly adequate job of keeping the Abbey Director's attention; why would he be interested in tiny, awkward, self-conscious Kenny Manabu?

But Boris hadn't said a word to him. He just slid a small, rectangular card into Kenny's clammy hands and walked away.

Kenny didn't pull the card out now, it would attract attention, and besides, he already had the information written on it memorized.

Written in fancy gold letters was the name '_Moscow Uspenskoe Factory'_: of one of the most prestigious Beyblade research facilities in Moscow.

Kenny wasn't really considering it…

…But he could wonder, couldn't he?

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_**End Chapter Twenty-Seven**_

…_**To Be Continued **_

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Oh… Yeah… It's a short chapter, that's true ^.^' Sorry, but I really wanted to update this weekend. I made you all wait long enough so I figured I'd post what I had instead of waiting another week or two.

Now, as most of you will notice: this is the spot where I usually answer anonymous reviews. Unfortunately, from now until April (when I leave France) I'm not going to have the time to do this (not to mention the last time I tried to access my e-mail it took half an hour O_O (and that's when I HAD an internet connection).); again, I'm sorry but I hope you will continue to review. I love reading all your comments and they're one of the only things that can motivate me when I get stuck!

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**Adio!**


	31. Dangerous Secrets

**Chapter 28**

YAY! Over 500 reviews! (Celebrates) Thanks everyone! I know it took a long time to get this chapter out, but all your encouragement and positive reviews really helped me to write! :D

**SPECIAL NOTE! **Yay! **Darakna**, fellow Kai fanatic/stalker and friend (;p) made this fanart for this fic. I love the picture combination, the way it tells a story and manages to create an overall image that conveys mystery… like 'something's going to happen'. Check it out at http: / / DemonDarakna. deviantart. com/art/ Sooryavansham-121012892.

**Disclaimer:** No owna Beyblade

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**KEY: **_**I**_**I**_ …(italics)… __**I**_**I — **denotes a change in language

--------_**I**_**I**_**…(bold)…**_ _**I**_**I — **denotes a second change in language

--------** ¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤ — **denotes a change in point of view

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Enjoy!

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

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"_The wicked can have only accomplices, the voluptuous have companions in debauchery, self-seekers have associates, the politic assemble the factions, the typical idler has connections, princes have courtiers. Only the virtuous have friends."_

-Voltaire a.k.a François-Marie Arouet (1694-1778)

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**Chapter 28:**** __****Dangerous Secrets**

Boris nodded at one of the Abbey guards who were quietly steering the Demolition Boys into a sombre, non-descript car. The Bladebreakers, White Tigers, Majestics and All-Stars had all left earlier and with them the adoring public had dispersed. Idle passer-bys would raise their heads, stare at the Russian teens with recognition shining in their eyes, then immediately avert their gazes and move on with their business. Not even the most obsessed Beyblade fanatic would dare stand and ask Tala Ivanov for an autograph while Boris and Voltaire were at his shoulders.

The boys would be taken back to the Abbey, where they would get a full meal and the rest of the night off before being locked back in their cells. Boris knew this leniency would confuse them, but with his current issues taking presidency in his mind, he couldn't be bothered with the daily training schedule.

Opening the door to Voltaire's gleaming, black limo, Boris seated himself gingerly on the polished leather seats. Usually this sort of luxury would have pleased him; he'd have enjoyed the small glimpse of his future lifestyle. But being enclosed in a moving metal box with Voltaire Hiwatari was like having both feet planted in quicksand: slowly being sucked downward—every sudden movement a deadly mistake. Boris would be lucky if he even got to smell the aged, vintage stuff Voltaire was always guzzling.

The elder man's hand cured around his armrest as he looked out the tinted windows, not even bothering to acknowledge Boris' presence. His attention was fully taken by whatever he saw beyond the glass pane. Boris shifted in his seat, scowling irritably.

"I want him tracked."

Boris frowned. "Excuse me, my lord?"

Voltaire's head turned, slowly, and his expression conveyed clearly that he considered Boris some sort of idiot. "My grandson. He is resisting: clinging to this poison that has infected his mind. He has lost sight of what is truly important in this life. Selfishness has clouded his vision of the greater truth… Impurity does not befit him…" Hiwatari's head turned back to the window and Boris was silently glad when the eye contact broke. This kind of talk always made him uncomfortable. There was something _wrong _with Voltaire's mind; Boris just wasn't sure what it was.

Even with his head turned away, Voltaire's voice continued in its soft monotone. "I want to know where he is staying, what he is doing, how he is living… And to _whom_ he would deem worthy enough to run from me." The sneer was audible on the last part as the man spoke with cool deliberation.

"…Yes, sir." Boris agreed, adding a submissive nod even before he realized the gesture as unnecessary.

"Send your best tracker. I understand you have been working on a new subject." Voltaire said nonchalantly, even as Boris suddenly found it difficult to swallow. "What is it called?"

"Brooklyn, sir." Boris fought to control his voice, keeping his eyes lowered. _'How did he find out I'd revived that project? How much more does he know?'_ Considering how Boris still had his head firmly attached to his shoulders, Voltaire couldn't have known _all_ the Director's secrets.

Voltaire nodded vaguely, eyes still on the passing scenery. "Yes, that's the one. You will send it."

"But sir!" Boris protested. "This experiment, it's still in its trial phase—"

"It would be the perfect opportunity for a field test." Voltaire countered smoothly, then paused. "Unless… You are afraid of failure?" The elder man's tone was sly; he knew he'd effectively backed Boris into a corner.

The fingers of one hand curled convulsively as Boris scrambled to find words to counter the other's loaded question. "Not at all, sir. It's just, this project… has much time and resources put into it…"

"I am well aware; it was _I,_ after all, who contributed many of the essential _parts_." The edges of Voltaire's lips curled into a vulpine smirk.

And that was when Boris realized how thin the ice on which he walked was. "Exactly," The Director nodded, and forcibly swallowed to wet his throat. He despised the way Hiwatari always managed to unnerve him and throw him off balance. Voltaire had not only found out about Boris' pet project in the bowels of the Abbey, he'd realized where the funds and fundamental research was being drawn from. Chances were there was a leak in the Abbey. This thought nearly made Boris growl, but he suppressed the dangerous emotion, putting it away until he could find a more suitable target.

The image of slanted red eyes and arrogant lips flashed in Boris' vision and the man found himself unexpectedly fighting down a wolfish sneer. With the rather pleasing images of Voltaire's grandson lying helpless at his feet, the swagger returned to Boris' voice. "—Which is why I wouldn't want to risk your generous donations without knowing for certain that the subject could perform flawlessly in a controlled—"

But Voltaire began speaking and Boris was forced to quieten. "Send Brooklyn, Boris." Came the quiet, but irrefutable, order.

Mentally snarling obscenities, Boris nonetheless picked up his cell phone.

As he dialed in the number and waited for the recipient to pick up, his thoughts wandered.

He would have to tell Voltaire what he knew about Kai living in Izhevsk. And though he didn't like the idea of sending Brooklyn out on this job, it would probably be a good way to test the loyalty of the bizarre teen. Besides, Brooklyn answered to _him_, not Voltaire. So Boris could filter exactly how much information the old man would be getting.

Voltaire was nosy and obsessively controlling, but Boris would be damned if he let the man get control of Kai.

Boris knew Kai was beginning to remember those years he'd spent at the Abbey—something Voltaire had always wanted to keep buried—and with those memories would come the old conditioning Boris had carefully placed in his head. The old loyalty.

Boris' thin mouth curled into an ugly smirk; the connection on the phone clicked as someone picked up with a lazy, English _''llo?'_

'_Let's see how long you can resist the inevitable, my dear Firebird.'_

Boris gave his orders curtly, not wasting any words on pleasantries. Brooklyn responded with amusement and his usual flippancy; but, if Boris wasn't mistaken, there was some hidden eagerness in there too: the teen had waited a long time for this opportunity, after all.

Ending the conversation with a clipped order not to let him down, the Abbey Director flipped the phone shut. "It is done." He said to Voltaire.

The elder Hiwatari inclined his head. "Very good."

With a brief stop at Balkov Abbey, Boris stepped down from the limo and was left behind in a cloud of smoke without any further words being exchanged.

Now blissfully alone to his thoughts, Voltaire gazed out the window, seeing yet not seeing the frozen streets of Moscow as they shone under dim streetlights and the last dregs of sunset.

"Soon, Mother…" Voltaire spoke distantly, the words leaving little clouds of mist on the glass. "Very soon, our goals will come to fruition…"

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Arriving at the Hotel Alfa Izmailovo, the Bladebreakers squeezed their way out of their taxis and walked up through the impressive entrance gates. There was a small incident when Kai halted before the doorway and—when questioned—muttered something about having business to take care of. Tyson had rolled his eyes, demanding that the red-eyed boy relax, drop the annoying attitude and come along quietly, earning himself a glare so cold the very air would have turned to ice had it been sensitive to the emotion. But before the situation could further inflame, Mr. Granger stepped in, putting an elbow on his affronted Grandson's head. Affably, the man grinned and told Kai he could go anywhere he wanted… as long as one of the adults accompanied him. The youth's glare had immediately turned on the elder man. For a moment, Kai seemed prepared to contest Ryu's words. But instead, he just turned and entered the building and everyone else was forced to follow behind him.

Standing in the middle of the lobby, Mr. Dickenson made a quick phone call to Judy Tate. Between the two of them, it was confirmed that Daichi would stay with the All-Stars for the night. After that, there was nothing left for the Bladebreakers to do except head up to their rooms.

Hilary split off from the others first; as the only girl in the group, she'd been privileged with her own room, a fact that she took great pleasure in dangling in front of Tyson's face. The navy haired boy growled his frustrations out to Rei and Max. But, after realizing his friends were more amused than sympathetic, the teen lapsed into a grouchy silence.

Tyson's sulk was short-lived however, as he quickly perked up at the thought of spending some time with his teammates. It would be the first time in a whole year that they would all hang out together and Tyson was nostalgic for the old times.

Rei and Max were up for it; and Kai made a sort of half-snort that was generally accepted as a yes. But Kenny, feigning tiredness, just brushed them off and wished his friends a good night before heading into a different room.

Putting Dizzy on a desk in the corner of the room, the mousy-haired boy seated himself on a slim, straight-backed chair. Flipping open his laptop, he checked the e-mails from his mother. Dizzy, somehow sensing his need for privacy, didn't bother Kenny as he typed.

Usually, he would have been glad to hang out, gossip and just goof around with his friends, but not this time. Right now, all Kenny wanted was some quiet time to sit and think on his own.

It had been a tiring day.

Hearing the door to the room open and click shut, Kenny leaned around his desk to see Tyson's grandfather tossing his heavy jacket onto the bed. The man gave Kenny a wide grin before heading toward the washroom, closing and locking the door behind himself.

Kenny brushed the activity off; Mr. Granger was sharing the room with him, after all. Turning his head back to the computer, he brought up a search engine and, even though the simple thought of doing it sent jolts of guilt through his stomach, he typed in the words _'Moscow Uspenskoe Factory'_.

A loud crash followed by a heavy thump had Kenny's head snapping up in panic as he instinctively slapped the top of his laptop down.

Realizing the sound had come from the washroom, Kenny discarded his work and tossed his chair backward as he raced across the room.

"Mr. Granger! Are you alright in there?" He knocked on the door worriedly, a million possibilities already chasing their way around his head: had the man tripped? Was he hurt? Kenny cursed himself for not knowing the Hotel's emergency number. Should he get Mr. Dickenson? Should he get Kai?

That last thought sent an uneasy pang through Kenny. Even after all this time he couldn't quite shake his innate fear of the older teen.

"Mr. Granger! If you don't answer I'm going to go find some help!" Kenny's hands twisted anxiously.

But the boy's worries seemed unfounded as Ryu opened the door a few seconds later—rubbing his left hip with an embarrassed grimace but looking non the worse for wear.

"Mr. Granger!" Kenny stepped back, surveying the man through his round glasses. "I heard you fall; are you—?"

"It's cool little dude," Ryu cut in, giving the boy a reassuring smile as he reached out and ruffled mousy brown hair. "Just slipped on a little H20. Nothing to get yourself in a twist over." The twinkle in Mr. Granger's eyes seemed to say that Kenny was overreacting and the boy pinked.

"Well, if you're sure…?" Kenny still felt like something was wrong, but Mr. Granger just waved it off and moved to collect his book from the counter.

And the teen, feeling it wasn't his place to challenge the adult, went back to the nice, predictable security of his computer.

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In the adjacent room, Alex Tate was sitting on the couch, watching in amusement as Tyson, Rei and Max chatted aimlessly. Mr. Dickenson had been all for letting the boys spend time alone together, but Alex— knowing that leaving four boys alone without supervision was not just leaving opportunity knocking, but opening the door and inviting it in with open arms—had volunteered to play chaperone.

Speaking of teenage boys…

Alex frowned as he glimpsed the other room's occupant. No sooner had he entered the room had Kai immediately crossed its length and exited out the other side onto the terrace. He'd been standing out there, in the bitterly cold snow, for almost ten minutes now and Max's father was beginning to loose his patience.

Seeing the elder man's gaze, Rei shook his head, leaned back in his chair and offered some sage advice. "Just leave him. Kai will come in when he's ready."

"He'll get sick if he stays out there too long." Mr. Tate grumbled.

Tyson snorted from his sprawling position on the fold-out bed. "Oh c'mon, the guy's already like an ice-cube. He's in his element."

Alex was not convinced and he pushed himself to his feet, intent on talking some sense into the teen. Quite honestly, he still couldn't believe _this _was Kai. This was the stone-hearted delinquent? The teen who Max looked up to with respect? The talk of the entire Beyblade grapevine?

All he did was stand against walls and brood! And, if his current actions were any indication—Standing outside in sub-zero temperatures with only a flimsy trench coat and scarf? What was the boy thinking?!—he had absolutely no regard for his own health.

"Dad…" Alex looked down at his son, who stared up at him with expressive blue eyes. Max didn't know quite how to form his words but his father shushed him before he could say anything.

"Look, son, I know what I'm doing." The man drew himself up self-confidently. He did, after all, have many years of parenting behind him.

"Sorry Mr. T, but Rei's right." Tyson said smiling indulgently, even as he shook his head—as though he couldn't believe Max's father's naïveté. "You don't wanna force Kai into doing something he doesn't want to. It might get ugly." The blue-haired boy spoke as though explaining the facts of life to a youngling and a spark of anger flashed in Mr. Tate's eyes.

"No, you are wrong." The man frowned and, realizing he had all three teen's attention, elaborated on his words. "I see that you have all spent a great amount of time together. During that time you've overcome trials, traversed stranger countries, competed in tournaments… all without any adults supervising your actions. No, let me continue." Alex raised a hand when Rei moved to intervene. "It _is _significant; because, somehow, during all of this you've managed to instil Kai as the unofficial authority on all matters. For the most part, you boys make your own choices and decisions. But when Kai speaks, you fall silent."

"He _is _our Captain." Rei stated bluntly.

Alex just continued. "You defer to him, you look up to him and you barely—if at all—question his actions." At this, all three boys shook their heads.

"You say that like we allow him to walk all over us." Came Rei's indignant response.

"It's not like he'd listen to us!" Tyson flared. "We'd try sometimes to ask him what's going on, but he'd just brush us off."

"Naturally," Mr. Tate nodded. "As your manager and captain, he felt responsible for your safety and training. He probably had a lot to figure and think out—it must have been difficult to make decisions that would literally make or break the team all on his own."

"…What are you saying?" Rei crossed his arms and Tyson and Max also looked at the adult expectantly.

Alex sighed. There were so many issues to address here, but jumping across topics would only confuse things further. So he picked the most pertinent problem at hand. "You have all gotten into the habit of thinking that Kai's attitude, his bizarre behaviour, is normal. It isn't." Alex turned to the terrace, looked through the glass at a broad back and dual-haired head that didn't even shiver in the frozen temperature. "Kai has been left to his own devices for too long. Now, as I agreed to be a delegate on this trip, he is my charge and he's going to have to conform to _my _rules." With a determined stride, Alex made his way to the door, missing, in his passion, Rei's lifted eyebrow and Tyson's low 'Man, Max, your Dad's one brave soul.'

"I just hope he's not suicidal." Max mumbled back.

Upon reaching the terrace doors, Alex flung them open, cringing as the biting wind howled into the room and puffy snowflakes swirled onto the carpet.

"Kai!" Mr. Tate called to the teen, whose back still faced him. "Kai, you shouldn't stand out there in the cold, why don't you—" But even before Alex could say it, Kai had swivelled around, passing the man without so much as looking at him. Alex had to lean back to avoid being slapped in the face by the scarf flapping from the boy's neck like a banner.

Max's father sighed but took Kai's semi-compliance as a success and ducked back into the apartment before closing the door behind himself.

"You must be wet after being out there for so long." Mr. Tate continued his attempt to be friendly, blatantly aware of how all conversation had ceased in the room as the three other occupants watched Kai and Alex's interaction with the morbid fascination of someone watching a hanging. "Why don't you dry off?" The man gestured vaguely toward the bathroom.

Kai had paused in the middle of the room, where he stood—wet coat dripping water all over the floor—fiddling with one of his cuffs in a motion that reminded Alex eerily of Voltaire. Then a hand came up, brushed through long, spiky hair and Kai's head quickly turned, just enough to regard Mr. Tate in the corner of his vision.

"That won't be necessary." Came the brief response.

Kai took another step away and, seeing that he was headed toward the door, Mr. Tate frowned. His first instinct was to reach out and grab the teen. Knowing somehow that that would not be a smart idea, he instead strode forward and slipped around Kai, cutting the teen off from the exit.

Slowly, Kai raised his eyes and met Mr. Tate's gaze full on. Alex had been expecting anger, or surprise, or even suspicion. What he had not been expecting was the utterly insipid, bland stare Kai levelled on him.

"What are you doing?" The question, spoken in a barely audible baritone, held a strong quality of reprimand. One which Mr. Tate did not appreciate coming from a child half his age.

"I didn't give you permission to leave." Alex said sternly, ignoring the gun-to-head motions Tyson was making to Max. "Now, I know you've been given some leniency in the past, but that is not how I do things around here. You are still underage and by law, I, as your team delegate, am acting in place of your guardian. And while you are under _my _authority, you will adhere to certain basic rules. I am not asking for much, just that you stay in doors with your team after hours. I don't have many rules, Kai, which makes the few that I _do _have that much more important. Do you understand?"

The look Kai gave him was positively frosty. A lion would have rolled over and yielded with the amount of venom he was projecting from his eyes. The colour itself—fiery crimson under the artificial room light—was enough to unnerve a man, but Kai took the art of silent intimidation to a whole new level.

In spite of his best efforts, Mr. Tate fidgeted. Suddenly, the words Tyson had spoken on the plane—_'Just you try questioning old red-eyes when he's glaring at you'_—made much more sense now. He, a man 20 years the boy's senior, was actually considering conceding to the idle whims of this child.

No. Alex steeled his resolve, stubbornly staring right back down at those red eyes, letting his own disapproval shine from his expression. He was not a man who bowed to intimidation. It had been one of the few lessons Alex's father had taught him—taught him through experience—a lesson he was sure Kai had learned in like fashion from his Grandfather.

And then, just like that, it was over.

With a small hissing exhalation, Kai turned on his heel and stalked away, entering the bedroom and closing the door with a firm snap—the meticulous control in the motion disturbed Mr. Tate more than if Kai had given the door an angry slam—then locking it.

It took Mr. Tate a few moments to realize he'd won; and then his posture relaxed as he grinned with relief. "See?" He said to the remaining teens, who were still oddly silent as they exchanged significant glances. "All it takes is a little discipline." There was something in the way Rei was regarding him—with a look shadowing pity—that made the grin slowly slide off Alex's face. "What is it?" He asked. "What's wrong?"

Tyson's eyebrow rose, holding his feet as he rocked forward on folded legs. "Dude, Mr. T, you didn't **actually** think he'd back off so easily?"

All that remained of Mr. Tate's grin froze on his face. "What do you mean?" He was desperately hoping the teen wasn't telling him what he thought he was telling him.

Rei sighed, shook his head. "You do know he's probably out the window and halfway down the building by now…"

Alex practically ran to the locked door and pounded on it with his fists. "KAI! KAI! CAN YOU HEAR ME YOUNG MAN?!" Alex ignored the angry thumping that came from the opposite wall—likely an annoyed neighbour—and continued shouting at the door. "KAI, YOU OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW! I MEAN IT, OPEN THIS DOOR OR YOU'LL BE IN BIG TROUBLE!" The steam rising up from Mr. Tate's head was almost visible as he turned a bright shade of red.

There were some loud curses and wall-thumping coming from the neighbours, but other than that, nothing.

Alex stared at the door in disbelief. A hand came down softly on his shoulder and Mr. Tate looked down to meet his son's eyes.

"Let it go, Dad." Max smiled wanly. "He wouldn't have listened even if you'd tied him to a chair."

"Believe me," Tyson piped up. "We've tried."

"Don't worry too much about it." Rei added as he rummaged through his bag. "He'll be back eventually."

Alex Tate looked over the teens incredulously. They were all so… unconcerned! Were Kai's nocturnal romps really all that common? Just then, another important detail occurred to Mr. Tate.

"But… we're more than ten stories up!" The man exclaimed. Still, there was no reaction from the boys and Alex threw his hands outward in emphasis. "How in the world is Kai supposed to make his way down from this height?!"

Rei and Tyson just looked at Mr. Tate, shook their heads and smiled.

"Your teammate and Captain just jumped out a window some 80 feet in the air in the middle of the night! Why aren't any of you more bothered by this?" It certainly bothered Alex.

Tyson and Max both looked to Rei—the elected spokesman of the team—who sighed and rolled his shoulders backward before meeting Mr. Tate's eyes. "We've seen Kai do some pretty crazy stuff. And hey," Rei glanced out a window, eyeballing the distance to the street. "We're not _that _high up. I could make it down the fire escape if I wanted." The comment was said so off-handedly that Mr. Tate didn't even think the Chinese teen was joking. Rei cocked his head and continued. "Besides, Kai probably just wants to go get his stuff from wherever he left it."

"Yeah, that's right, he doesn't have any bags." Tyson pointed out.

"So maybe he went to his Grandmother's?" Max suggested, in spite of Rei and Tyson's dubious looks.

It was then that Mr. Tate realized the teens hadn't been informed about the sketchiness of Kai's 'back-story'.

"Boys, I think you should know…" Mr. Tate took a breath. There was absolutely no gentle way to say it so he delivered the news quickly and pointedly. "Kai's Grandmother has been presumed dead for nearly half a decade."

Shocked silence met that statement. Looking at the boys sadly, Alex realized that, in spite of their doubts, Tyson and Rei had still believed Kai's story on some level. Despite their proven maturity, they, and his son, were still essentially children: believing in the best in people and forever convincing themselves that life was not the cruel reality it was.

"You're kidding…" Rei's mouth hung open.

Max looked gobsmacked, and a little betrayed. "Kai… lied to us?"

Tyson's reaction, contrary to his friends', was one of anger. "I knew it! I just knew his story sounded fishy! But that bastard—" the teen cringed under Mr. Tate's disapproving stare, but still continued. "Voltaire backed Kai up! And Mr. D didn't say anything…" Tyson's voice trailed off, as though he had just confused himself. "But then… wait… why? Why would Kai need to lie like that? What's he hiding?"

"Where has he been staying?" Rei added quietly, speaking the question none wanted to ask but all wanted answered.

Mr. Tate shook his head. "I don't have an answer to that. All I know is that Kai did have a Grandmother, but she went missing when he was pretty young…"

"Missing…?" Max picked up on the word. "Then she could still be…"

Alex shook his head "After such a long time… it's unlikely."

Tyson rubbed his forehead. "Uh… this is just so messed up! Why can't Kai, for once, just _tell us what's going on_? We should just… argh!" Leaping off the bed, the teen had stomped up to Mr. Tate and exclaimed his frustrations at the locked door. "I wish we could just grab him and _shake _the answers out!"

Conviction flashed in Rei's amber eyes and he clenched a fist. "You're right, Tyson. Up to now I've been pulling back, waiting… thinking that…" Whatever he was going to say was slowly swallowed by a thoughtful silence that had his two younger friends glancing at him curiously. Ignoring them, Rei stood from his chair and paced the room. "Asking Kai directly won't get us anywhere." Long hair swept the air as he turned suddenly. "And listening to information second-hand just leads us in circles…" The three Bladebreakers exchanged long looks and Mr. Tate didn't like the undertones passing in that moment of silence.

"Okay, alright, just calm down. No one else is going to take an impromptu leap out the window." Alex gestured with his hands for the boys to settle down. "Right now I'm going to call Mr. Dickenson, tell him about Kai's disappearance. Then, we'll all get some sleep. Sleep on this thing. Figure it out in the morning…" In truth, Mr. Tate didn't think there would be any use in calling Mr. Dickenson—the man would probably praise Kai for 'striking out on his own' or some such nonsense. But Alex also didn't think it was a good idea to go gallivanting around the city at night…

There were problems and danger no matter which path he chose—but Alex's first priority was to his son. As callous at it sounded, Kai had already survived a year on the streets of Russia. He'd have to trust that the boy could spend one more night out there.

"…I… think Kai is okay." Max said hesitantly. When everyone looked at him he quickly explained. "Well, he told me he was safe… and… I believe him…" Max looked down for a moment, then clenched his fists. When his eyes came up they were strong with determination. "Yes. I believe Kai is safe. Because even though he told that story about his Grandmother, he's never actually lied straight to our faces or when we ask him something directly. Remember, Tyson? We asked him about his Grandmother… He didn't answer, but at least he didn't lie! And I asked him, right to his face, whether he was safe. And he said he was, so I believe him!"

Tyson grinned hugely; Max's conviction had put strength into the other boy's diminishing belief. And Rei just stared at Max, as though the blond was some priceless enigma.

Alex just smiled at his son, reaching out and ruffling the child's hair fondly.

"Alright then, I'm gonna go change." Tyson announced, hopping off the bed with pyjamas in hand.

And then Alex realized yet another important detail. Head snapping up, he swerved back to the bedroom and began jiggling the door handle harshly, earning some bemused looks.

"Ah, that boy! Kai locked the door! All my clothes are still in there!"

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_**End Chapter Twenty-Eight**_

…_**To Be Continued **_

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And… that's it! So… 'Brooklyn' huh? Betcha didn't see that coming XD

And again, please check out **Darakna**'s fanart at http: / / DemonDarakna. deviantart. com/art/ Sooryavansham-121012892 (without the spaces). If that doesn't work, you can go to my profile page, click on my DeviantArt page link and check out the favourites! :D

To everyone who reviewed the last two chapters, I didn't really get around to responding, but I'll certainly respond to all reviews for this chapter! Thanks: **Canyx, CleverPhoenix, ElementalFoxGoddess, d1bontemp, Yuliya, wolf's lament, terracannon876, Petalwhisker X Fireheart, FlamingIce94, phoenix-falling, BedknobsAndLlamas, Nameless Little Girl, HimekoSuki, setsuko teshiba, Marie9, BloodRedViolet, Raykou-kun, TheFallenangel927, WolfSong, Evanescente, Pickle Reviver, Kavbj, ShadowFeonix, bladz-liska, beybladeingninjaprincess, Kai's-Suzaku, grimnessreaper, alanacrystal, Insontas, FallenHope-Angel, Darakna, Alice H. Valentine, someone, Lady Demoonica Darkmoon **and **Inchoate Designs!**Without you guys this chapter probably would have taken even longer in coming!

**Adio!**


	32. Here's to the Night

**Chapter 29**

Hey! 'M back ^_^

Oh and! **Thankies **to **Yuliya**, my go-to expert on Russia who's always willing to answer my bizarre questions ^.^

**Disclaimer:** Yeah. Right… Beyblade does _not _belong to me (grins); prolly a good thing too, or else there'd be WAY too much mental trauma floating around for a kid's show XD

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**KEY: **_**I**_**I**_ …(italics)… __**I**_**I — **denotes a change in language

**----- **_**I**_**I**_**…(bold)…**_ _**I**_**I — **denotes a second change in language

**----- ¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤,¸¸¸,¤ø¤ — **denotes a change in point of view

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Enjoy!

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**Sooryavansham: The Dynasty of the Sun**

_Sholay_

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"_The world used to be a bigger place."_

"_The world's still the same. There's just... less in it."_

-Captains Barbossa and Sparrow (Pirates of the Caribbean)

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**Chapter 29:**** __****Here's to the Night**

Hilary was thirsty.

Now that in itself wasn't a big deal. With a flick of her fingers, the beige pot lights over the kitchenette came on with a dull buzz. Hilary ran a hand through her shoulder-length brown hair, looking around herself with something resembling awe. It was unbelievable that just two days ago she had been in Japan, rising out of her own bed in her own house, completely unwitting of the surreal twist her life was about to take. A week ago, she'd never placed a foot outside of Japan and _this_… This had been unexpected to say the least.

'_And wow… Russia… What a place to start…'_

Truthfully, Hilary had always thought that once she left Japan she would travel to America. To go to University or Medical School or some such academic endeavour.

'_Although this isn't all that bad… It gives me a taste of the culture at least…' _Didn't it?

At least her parents had agreed to let her come.

Her room at the Hotel Alfa Izmailovo was spacious and modern, complete with pure white leather couches and glass tables. It was pretty standard, as far as hotel rooms went, but here and there were a dozen little nuances that constantly reminded Hilary that she wasn't home: she just couldn't get over how the ceiling sloped asymmetrically toward one corner of the room; and she had spent a number of minutes staring at the stuccoed wall behind her bed, even going so far as to sweep the pads of her fingers over the uneven ridges. The pattern in the floor carpet lacked the rhythm and calmness of Japanese themes and the fake potted plants bore chains of fake purple and yellow flowers quite unlike the delicate pink blossoms she was used to.

It was scary and fascinating all at the same time. And she wasn't even paying a dime for the experience. Wasn't that something?

It made her giggle, thinking that people she didn't even _know_ were paying hard money for her to teach Tyson arithmetic.

Speaking of her tutoring job—Hilary took a glass from the cupboard, filled it, and walked over to a long window with gauzy curtains—she had gotten almost nothing accomplished today, what's with that all day meeting about politics and bay-blades. Tyson was still as ignorant and dim as before. Starting tomorrow she would have to set up a strict regime: serious tutoring lessons for at least four hours a day—longer, if Tyson daydreamed or had particular difficulty with a certain topic. It wouldn't do for the boy to return to Japan and fail his makeup exam. _His_ wasn't the only grade at stake here.

Smiling at the resolution she'd reached, Hilary cleared her mind and gazed out on the beautiful scenery before her. Russia was so different from Japan. Sure, it snowed in Tokyo, but never this much and never this long. It had been snowing since early morning: endless flakes tumbling from the air, swirling gently in the wind to accumulate on the ground.

The atmosphere was also very different. The buildings, the people… she couldn't exactly put her finger on it, but it was different here. The buildings were more… western maybe? More strict? It was amazing how Moscow and Tokyo seemed to have such different historical roots. Tokyo had shrines and elegant, five-tier pagodas. Russia had fancy turrets, figures and swirls sculpted into the walls and high, arching ceilings. In Tokyo, the city was always alive and bustling, with lights, people and noise, even at night. Here, everyone always seemed to have places to go, places to be, and street activity dropped down to nearly zero at night. And there was always that underlying sense of danger. Checking in, the hotel had supplied her with a full set of keys: one for the main door, one for the elevator and at least two more for her apartment itself. Just getting into her room had taken an embarrassing amount of time.

The Russian people seemed to be pretty serious; it was something she could relate to.

Just then, as she let her eyes lower idly, she caught sight of something white flashing by the window. Accompanying it was a dull clanging of metal on metal. Starting, Hilary nearly dropped her glass, catching it at the last second and sliding it onto the desk as she back-pedalled.

Not letting her eyes leave the window—and feeling her heart clench with apprehension—she reached blindly on the table for the first hard object she could lay her had on. Fingers curling around the object, she brought it up in front of herself defensively.

Her math book.

Stepping cautiously toward the window, she heard again the metal clanking. This time, there was a long screech as though someone had let a folded ladder slide downward on squeaky hinges.

Hilary narrowed one eye, mystified. Was someone climbing down the fire escape?

Curiosity overwhelming discretion, Hilary stepped forward and opened the lock on the window with one hand, math book clutched defensively in the other. Wire mesh covered the window, but Hilary pressed in as close as could to the netting, gazing downward.

There was a flimsy landing directly below her window and there, just moving down out of her line of vision, was a flaring scarf and a familiar mop of pale blue-grey hair.

'_Kai?'_

Hilary hesitated for only a moment before making her decision. Any longer and he'd be gone. She tossed her book onto the table and grabbed her coat and purse. Fishing her keys out of her bag, she hopped on one foot as she yanked on one boot then the other, stooping only long enough to yank the zipper up over her sweatpants.

Unlocking and re-locking the door took too long, but luckily the elevator was available as soon as she hit the button. Riding downward, she tossed her heavy coat around her shoulders and slipped on a pair of gloves she'd tugged from her pockets. Flicking her hair out from under the coat collar, she held the strands back as she tugged her hood securely over her head.

She _knew _it was a bad idea. She _knew _it was stupid to go running outside, alone, at night, in a strange country. All these things, she knew them, but somehow they didn't properly register as she exited the elevator and flew past the front desk and shoved open the brass-rimmed door.

The cold was a shock on her face and she stopped short, wrapping her hands around her nose and squinting out into the gloom.

There, heading out the hotel gates was a broad-shouldered figure with a long scarf.

"KAI!" Hilary called. She cupped her hands around her mouth. "KAI!!" But it was useless. The wind blew away and dispersed her voice as soon as it left her mouth. Running forward, she reached the gates quick enough to see Kai turn a corner somewhere down the dark road.

"Urgh…" Hilary shuffled around on her feet, rubbed some warmth into her arms, glanced left, then right, and burst off down the street, ignoring the hotel employee manning the gate, who was yelling something incomprehensible at her.

What was Kai thinking? Running off all by himself like that? He could get hurt or something… Hilary didn't know the guy all that well, but that wouldn't stop her from finding him and shaking some sense into the teen before dragging him back to the hotel.

Turning the same corner as Kai, she spotted him at a crosswalk, turning right. He was fast, but Hilary was pretty confident she could catch up if she ran. Feet kicking up clumps of snow in her wake, she reached the crosswalk and made the right turn only a few moments after Kai. She skidded to a halt.

The road was long and straight. Frozen patches of asphalt gleamed wetly under the streetlights, reflecting sparse amounts of light onto a path utterly devoid of life as far as the eye could see.

Kai was nowhere to be seen.

"KAI!" She bellowed out the name one last time before slapping a hand over her own mouth. Calling attention to herself while she was alone in the middle of a dark, empty street was _not_ something she wanted to do.

Cursing her luck, Hilary knew she couldn't go any further without putting herself in danger. Reluctantly, she turned to go back, hoping that Kai hadn't gotten dragged into one of the dirty alleys and was currently getting mugged or worse.

The snow was so much prettier outside. It fell like floating, fuzzy stars and white lamps cast foggy, ghostly images that swirled in the air. But Hilary noted the silence. The lifelessness of the road. Pulling her coat closer, she quickened her stride.

Hilary had walked only a few steps before her ear picked up heavy footfalls behind her.

Glancing back and seeing only a hefty leather jacket and shrouded face, Hilary turned her head forward and began walking faster.

The footsteps behind her sped up to match her pace and Hilary broke out into a run.

She didn't know what happened. Normally, she considered herself to be a pretty fast sprinter, but one second the guy was behind her and the next a hand had grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her unexpectedly into some dark space between the buildings.

Gasping, horror and fear clogging her throat, Hilary's boots skidded on the mud and muck that slimed the ground. She slipped, falling hard against a hard chest that rumbled with an amused chuckle. She couldn't see who'd grabbed her, her hood had fallen and her hair was blowing into her eyes. Lashing out blindly with her purse, Hilary let out a loud scream—and was immediately muffled when the person wrenched her arm behind her back and placed a hand over her mouth.

Hilary did the first thing that came to mind. She bit that hand and stomped down on the foot of the person holding her.

There was a cry of pain, a curse, and the person let her go. Hilary immediately ran, swerving when some other figure rose from the shadows and grabbed at her arm. She was so close to the hotel, all she had to do was get out of this alley—

A hand latched onto her flying hair and Hilary cried out as she was brutally pulled backwards by the head.

Mercifully, the hand let go and Hilary staggered, rubbing her head and trying to put the stinging pain out of her mind. Then, with dread that made her legs quake, Hilary drew her eyes upward.

Three, no four men, all with at least a foot on her height, had her trapped on either side. The same, identical leering grin stretched all their faces as they slowly closed in on her. One of them spoke something in Russian, maybe asking a question, but she didn't understand a word of it.

"Stay… Stay back!" Hilary clenched her hands into fists and forced some courage into her voice. Mentally, she tried not to berate herself for idiotically running off alone; instead she tried to focus on a way to get herself out of there.

"Ahh… English, eh?" The man on her left—with an unshaven jaw and slick blond hair—said, his thick accent making the word come out more like _'Ayngleesh'_. "Pretty, English girl; want to play?"

Hilary recoiled away from the man's outstretched hand, but there was a wall behind her and she had nowhere left to go.

Just then, her fingers, clutching tightly at her purse, curled around something round and hard. With a jolt, Hilary remembered the can of spray she had in there. It wasn't pepper spray—rather, it was a tiny canister of shining spray. It had been a spur-of-the-moment thing: she'd thought maybe her hair would need some touching up during the meeting—certainly she hadn't anticipated anything like _this_. Now she found herself thanking that flash of vanity.

Hilary's mind worked furiously as she cringed against the wall, eyeing the men before her with a narrow gaze, her eyes flitting from one sneering face to the next. They had spread out around her: one to her left, one right in front and two on her right. At the moment, they seemed content on teasing her: one man would make a sly comment to his fellow, then jump out at her with a loud exclamation. Every time she would yelp and flinch away, making them laugh.

She had to plan this just right. She could blind one man, take off while he was distracted… But there was no way she'd be able to out run all four of them for long.

Maybe… if she could… attract some attention?

Mustering all the strength she had, Hilary gathered her breath and did the only thing she could. She screamed.

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It had been a calculated decision to leap out the bedroom window. Max's father would have caused a disturbance had I decided to force my way through him. This way, I would make my escape efficiently and without the added labour of a tiresome argument.

Stealing two spare facecloths from the cupboards, I pull open the window as far as it will go before reaching up and detaching the bug net.

I pause there, hands gripping the windowsill, and look back. There is a bed in the corner of the room; I consider it, with its with its dull green covers perfectly turned down over the mattress. Stepping away from the window, I spare a moment to tug out one of the corners of the duvet and fold it over the bed, exposing the white sheets underneath. Not wasting another moment with the distraction, I move back to the window and stick my head out into the cold, night air.

There is a small landing directly below me. It looks pitifully flimsy, with its pencil thin guardrail and warped black metal, but I take the chance and drop downward.

I land with a muffled thump, sinking to my knees in the mound of snow. Not expecting the snow to be that deep, my balance tips to the right and I nearly fall face first into the snow. Catching myself on the railing, I am hardly surprised when the thing creaks ominously under my weight. The jerky motion knocks over a dead potted plant perched to my left, its contents spilling over the blanket of snow.

Sighing, glad I did not just get snow and soil all over my shirt and scarf, I blame my mistake on the decreased physical training I have done recently. Making a quiet resolution to move back into my old regime, I trudge closer to the guardrail and look over the edge. As I expected, there is a ladder folded up the side. I touch the cold rail gingerly and pull out the pin holding the ladder in place. It slides down with an unfortunately noisy screech.

I vault easily over the railing and twist myself around to grab onto the rusted ladder rungs. Making use of the towels I had snatched earlier, I wrap my hands securely with the material then grip the sides of the frozen ladder. Rather than climb down, I shift my feet to the outer edges and let gravity do the work: descending in a swift slide.

At some point I think I hear a voice calling my name, but seeing nothing above and around me, I brush it off.

The ladder ends, ceding to another landing at a set of staircases, which I quickly take, trying to ignore the way the snow was seeping into my sneakers and soaking the bottom half of my jeans. Oddly, upon reaching the bottom of the staircase I find that the fire escape simply—ends. And I am still five storeys up. It seems that there had once been a ladder attached to the railing, but the hinges had rusted and it has fallen apart. No one had thought to replace it.

One eyebrow rises.

'_Goodness forbid this place actually caught fire…'_

There is a door behind me but it has no handle. Considering the smooth metal surface, I think briefly of breaking it down, or perhaps melting the lock with Dranzer. The thought is quickly dismissed—with my luck I would probably set off an alarm.

So instead, I turn my attention downward.

Clearing a patch of the landing by kicking the snow unceremoniously over the edge, I kneel on the metal grating then unwind the towels from my hands and stick them in my back pocket. Touching my hand to the frozen rods under my feet, I scowl as frost bites hungrily at my fingertips. I spare the hand one impatient shake before reaching back out and grabbing the very edge of the landing. Forcibly ignoring the cold, I draw my feet over the side, passing smoothly under the guard railing and free falling until my grip on the landing catches and I hang there by one hand.

The wind snaps my scarf out behind me and I quickly reach upward, fingers lacing through the grating and curling as I hang in mid-air, snapping my heels together to control the swing of my legs. Blinking snowflakes out of my eyes, I quickly spot my next move: the wall of the building has thin, decorative ledge which I can barely reach with my toes.

There is a second, similar ledge, just level with my nose, and I eye it cagily. Stomach feeling unnaturally tight, I take a deep breath and let go of the grating with one hand, fingers clawing into the thin ledge. Then, acting quickly, I let go with the other hand and scramble to pull myself flat to the wall before I fall backward. Nonexistent fingernails dig into the wall and my toes strain to hold my weight on the slippery perch.

My teeth grit together as muscles I have not worked for a year strain to keep me stabilized.

Then, when my chest is flat to the wall and my nerves have stopped liquefying my muscles, I let out the breath I am holding.

'_Very good. Now, next step…'_

I look down. The ground is not all that far away. Maybe three storeys. If I could get just a little further down I could probably jump the distance…

I begin sidling my way around the building: one foot slithering out along the ledge, followed by a wary hand, then my chest and shoulders—all the while staying flush with the cement wall. The process is painfully slow but I successfully manoeuvre around one corner, then arrive at a second that bends inward. Anchoring my back and side against the walls, I slide my back downward, grasping at the ledge with my fingers.

My feet slip and with a gasp that chokes off in my throat, I feel myself plummet downward.

Reaching blindly, the tips of my fingers catch on something and I slam right into the wall, shoving the breath from my lungs in a whoosh.

Adrenaline still pumping all rational thought from my head, I look down, judge the distance and take the insane jump to the ground.

My feet land with a muffled thump, absorbing the impact with bent knees and a single hand touching the wet asphalt. In my chest though, I feel something… _shift_. It was a unpleasantly bizarre sensation—one, not of pain, but of things moving around in my body when they most certainly _should not _be—and I press a hand to my ribs with a grimace.

Mentally, I thank Dranzer for suppressing the pain of my broken rib. I can feel her tiring though, soon she will not be able to act as a buffer and then—

—Oh yes, then things will _really_ get interesting.

Putting aside the thought, I pull the soiled facecloths from my pocket and toss them idly toward a nearby trashcan.

I did not pay much attention to my throw, so they fall a little short, sweeping the edge of the can.

A loud yowl has me swinging around, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up as I take a few startled steps backward, eyes scouring the area. There is a rustle near the trashcans and my gaze drops downward.

The towels I had just disregarded bulge and flop around as some small animal struggles to sweep them off. One edge picks up and twitches in the air, likely caught on the animal's nose and then a tiny paw darts out, catches the material and the entire bundle topples over into a puddle.

From the mess of damp folds pops a miniscule nose, whiskers and a pair of round, dewy eyes.

A cat. Or rather, a kitten. Hardly bigger than a pigeon or squirrel, the little creature shakes itself of the towel before hissing at me suspiciously, waterlogged, grey fur bristling indignantly.

"Tch," I take a step backward. It is only a cat—hardly a threat and not worth the waste in time.

I turn, more pressing matters already taking up space in my head, fully intending on leaving.

A tiny mewl makes my steps falter and I look back.

The cat paws pathetically at the large trashcan as it favours me with a wide, baleful stare, made all the more miserable for its sopping wet fur.

Not even really thinking about what I am doing, I walk closer to the cat. "I have no food." I tell it simply, as though it could understand.

The cat cocks its head, looking at me as though I were being particularly slow. Then it paws at the metal canister again, mewling insistently.

"There…?" I look to the trashcan. Walking closer, the cat lets out a tiny 'meep' and ducks under the towels, looked up at me, eyes hooded by the material. Figuring it would do no harm, I lift the metal lid. The smell that blossoms out from the canister is putrid: expired milk mixed with cigarette smoke. But he cat has a good nose; sitting right on top of a bag of garbage is a styrofoam box which I nudge open, revealing some leftover fish and rice.

The cat yelps impatiently—bold as brass, even as it hides shivering under that towel—and, feeling the edges around my eyes soften, I look down at the little furball.

"… Here." I offer the food, kneeling and placing the box right in front of its curious, twitching nose before rising and backing away a couple of paces.

Skittish and nervous, it takes a few moments before the cat gathered the nerve to peak past its shelter. It eyes the food, then me, then the food and bit-by-bit, it moves forward.

"There you go…" I say softly, wondering if my tone will somehow coax the animal. It seems to work as the cat lets out a loud meow and slinks up to the fish. With a flash of pearly canines, the cat takes the tiniest nibble of the food.

I find myself being drawn closer, hand reaching, tentatively, towards its tiny, fuzzy grey ear. But before I have even properly bent down, the cat grabs the fish in its mouth and darts off into the night, its swishing tail the last thing to disappear around the side of the building.

For a second I remain crouched there, staring at the spot the cat had once occupied; then one corner of my lips curls loosely "Hn."

Pushing off my knees, I rise to my feet. Briskly walking to the front of the building, I exit out the front gates, ignoring the guard's warning calls. The snow paints a serene picture tonight, but by tomorrow it will surely be piled up in dirty mounds on the sides of the roads: filth, mud and all sorts of unnamed things dripping down the roads in endless rivulets.

But that is all to come. Right now the snow is white and pure and, in keeping with the moment, I let my mind wander, thinking about things that are not Voltaire, Boris, Tala or the Bladebreakers.

I was born in Russia—at least, that is what I surmised from what Voltaire told me. I have no memories from before the Abbey, just the vaguest recollections of—someone? Laughter? Safety? I shake my head. Pipe-dreams of a needy child were all those were.

'_Kai!'_

My head snaps up. Hands resting deeply in my pockets, I turn somewhat, staring sharply at the road behind me. Did someone just call my name?

But nothing moves on the abandoned street, the only sound is the sporadic fizzing of a dying streetlight.

…Still, if someone had in fact called my name…

My mind quickly does the math; I sigh.

The Bladebreakers.

Trouble.

A growl of annoyance passes between clenched teeth as I pass a hand over my mouth in consternation.

Looks like I am back to playing babysitter. One would think that a year's time would have been enough to pick up some common sense but no, apparently not. Snow crunching under my feet, I retrace my footsteps back the way I came.

A shrill scream pierces the air, freezing me in my tracks.

That was certainly not one of the Bladebreakers.

My pace picks up and—even as I rush toward the noise—I am thinking: thinking about leaving it to the authorities but knowing they will never get there in time. The sounds of scuffling and muffled yelps gets louder; I turn into a shadowed alleyway and there it is:

A group of four men surrounding a teenaged girl. Her back is turned to me and I see one man has twisted her hands behind her while another is reaching toward her face.

My eyes narrow.

"Stop."

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_**End Chapter Twenty-Nine**_

…_**To Be Continued**_

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I miss writing :3 Haven't had the time to just sit down and _write _for such a long time now… But anyway, I do hope things get better once I finish exams (*phew*)

**WolfSong:** Hi! Hehe, I'm glad you like Max ^.^ He's such a contrast to the other characters, I find him especially fun to write after long 'Kai' sections XDD.

**someone:** Hiya! Thanks for reviewing! Gah! Yes, I know the updates have been slow (*headdesk*). I have absolutely NO intention of leaving this story unfinished (all my favourite authors do hat (huffs) it's such a disappointment). I'm so glad you're enjoying the adults in this fic! :D I needed some deep thinkers and the kids just weren't doing it for me XDD Mr. Granger is, I think, my most spontaneous character… I never have _any _idea what I want him to say; but somehow, when his scene comes, he just writes himself XD It's brilliant. Oh, and I think I enjoy writing 'Lord' Voltaire a little _too _much (evil grin). Also! I haven't forgotten about Mr. and Mrs. Huo (grins) their story isn't over yet…

**butterflykisses46:** Hello and thanks for reviewing! :D Yesss, Kai's independence can't be overcome with a simple intervention XD Mr. Tate should know better than to challenge Kai's awesomeness X3. I'm really sorry this update took so long but I hope you enjoyed it!

Thank you to all you brilliant people who reviewed: **terracannon876, Marie9, Yuliya, Lady Demoonica Darkmoon, Petalwhisker X Fireheart, wolf's lament, CleverPhoenix, alanacrystal, WolfSong, Okamikai, ElementalFoxGoddess, Raykou-kun, FallenHope-Angel, d1bontemp, FlamingIce94, Miako6, BedknobsAndLlamas, Inchoate Designs, Nameless Little Girl, Baka's Angel, someone, bladz-liska, Canyx, beybladeingninjaprincess, BloodRedViolet, grimnessreaper, Pickle Reviver, Darakna, mikinyet, butterflykisses46,** **chibi heishi** and **Phoenixfyre101** for pushing me to hurry up and write XD**!**

**Adio!**


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